


Echoes of Vader

by bbqbert



Series: Visions of Vader [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 80,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbqbert/pseuds/bbqbert
Summary: A vision of the future reveals that Order 66 is at hand. Only, Anakin Skywalker hasn't fallen yet. Now the Jedi Order seeks to control him and Sidious intends to enslave him. But Anakin only wants to stop the Empire—and destroy himself in the process so Darth Vader can never exist.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Visions of Vader [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052165
Comments: 242
Kudos: 246





	1. Escape the Invisible Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This story will track with the EU/Legends-canon universe. Canon pairings apply but are not the emphasis of the story. I hope you enjoy!

Anakin exhaled a sharp breath as the world went sideways around him. He scrambled to catch the Chancellor—and missed—and then clawed at Obi-Wan as his former Master nearly tumbled off his back. The elevator shaft lurched back to its vertical position and sent them all plummeting towards their deaths. Anakin scratched at the metal wall for purchase and managed to snag a wire with his mechno-hand.

They jerked to a stop, and his arm nearly tore at the shoulder under his, Obi-Wan's, and the Chancellor's collective weight. Pain radiated through his shoulder and back, but he held fast and chanced a glance down at the endless tunnel that faded into an abyss beneath them. The Chancellor clung to Anakin's ankle, his fingers digging so tight Anakin could feel the fierce pressure through his boots.

Anakin's stomach dropped the way it did when something bad was about to happen. Matters could always get worse, but he couldn't see how they could progress to much worse than they were already. His eyes shot from one side of the elevator shaft to the other, up and down, for any trace of a nearby doorway.

_Forgive me._

A voice tickled at the back of his mind. Quiet, but familiar. Warm.

Anakin let out a breath. A shiver swept through him. The Chancellor's grip tightened.

_I am truly sorry._

A wave of sheer power through the Force slammed into Anakin with as much pressure as Dooku's Force lightning. His muscles contracted and his fingers trembled. He willed his hand not to loose the bundle of wires. Even the Chancellor let out an undignified shout, and his fingers on Anakin's ankle dug deeper.

Anakin scanned his surroundings. Aside from a slight haze from the pain that flashed across his vision, there was nothing. No droids, no blasters, no Sith Lords firing lightning.

Then his vision went black, and hundreds upon thousands of images paraded through his mind in rapid flashes, images that came and went so fast he didn't understand them. But he understood the feelings behind them: pain, immense suffering, and suffocating sorrow he had not felt since his mother's death. Screams and blood. Death.

A shot of ice coursed through his veins. The world held still, his lungs paralyzed in his chest, his heart frozen. The visions unraveled in his mind, vivid as reality.

Lies told. A decision made. A knee bent at the feet of a Sith Lord. The Jedi betrayed. Padmé fallen. A battle in the flames of Mustafar. A body torn, broken, and burned. A black mask.

Darth Vader.

Anakin saw it all in a fraction of a second, saw his life play out before his eyes, felt the agony that would devour him for the next twenty-some years. Felt the misery he inflicted upon the galaxy, upon his friends, felt their combined sorrow deep in his bones. Not only their sorrow, but their hatred and fear—of him.

Everything went dark. His fingers slipped, and empty air welcomed him into its embrace.

\-----

Wind whistled past Obi-Wan's ears as he plummeted, the world a blur of gray around him. Just as in his dream. No, his nightmare. The horrible visions of an entire lifetime, of _two_ lifetimes, that seized his mind.

Out of reflex, he snatched his grappling hook and unfurled it. It caught above him, and he lurched to a stop and careened sideways into an open doorway, same as in his dream. Yet when Obi-Wan rolled, Anakin and the Chancellor weren't beside him. He rose, but his legs gave way and he staggered to the wall by the open door. He clasped his hand over his chest and gasped. He couldn't breathe, and his heart thundered up to his ears.

Horrific images stabbed through his mind, again and again. Visions of a terrible future full of death and sorrow. Visions of a betrayal that broke his heart and would have ruined him if not for the hope the galaxy could be redeemed. A nightmare that crushed him under an oppressive weight.

It was not his own immense sorrow alone that crushed him. No, he felt Anakin's, too, as if it was his own. Felt his fears and failures, experienced an entire lifetime of his memories as if he had lived it himself.

A horrific, terrifying nightmare.

He leaned into the shaft, the howl of the dropping elevator echoing over his head. At the bottom of the shaft, the Chancellor looked up at him from where he stood, perfectly unharmed. Anakin lay curled at his feet, unconscious.

And for a moment, Obi-Wan saw a vision laid over them, Darth Vader kneeling at the feet of Darth Sidious. But it couldn't be. It was not possible.

The Chancellor's faced twisted with a feral grin. His hands flew up, and violet threads of lightning burst from his fingertips with a thunderous crack. Obi-Wan dove away from the doorway, and as he rolled across the floor, the entire shaft exploded behind him.

"I have had enough of you, anyway," the Chancellor said, and his voice echoed with ringing, sinister laughter.

Like the emperor of Obi-Wan's nightmares.

"It can't be," Obi-Wan said.

He rose to his knees, his vision blurred. He hadn't been hit, but his mind swam, his heart pumping too hard and too fast. Using the wall to haul himself up, he peered again into the shaft after Anakin, but both the Chancellor and Anakin were gone. Another doorway loomed open not far from where they had landed.

Obi-Wan pressed his back to the wall as his legs wavered yet again. He brought a hand to his mouth and then dropped it.

"It can't be."

The future was uncertain—always in motion. Visions could not be trusted, and attempting to change the future led only to corruption. His Jedi training, the part of him so deeply rooted in platitudes and tradition, warned him that what he saw meant nothing. Even if it did, he could not and should not dwell on it. He should deal with the situation as it was in the present, as he knew it in the here and now.

But his instincts, his heart, and his mind all told him that what he'd seen was very, very real. And his instincts told him to move and to act, and so he did despite the storm of thoughts raging in his mind.

Obi-Wan staggered away from the shaft and down the vacant corridor. His lightsaber weighed at his hip, for which he was thankful. His last memory was taking a blow from Dooku with his weapon still in hand. He searched for the comlink shared between him and Anakin, since he had sacrificed his to R2. Anakin must have had the other device.

Anakin. Darth Vader.

He skirted the sides of the corridor to avoid ray shields that he knew were there. _This time_. Because, in another time, he, Anakin, and Palpatine had been caught in a ray shield trap. Obi-Wan stared at the spot. Had it been this exact corridor?

A door at the end of the hall opened to unleash a small army of battle droids into Obi-Wan's path, and he merely swerved through a separate door and shut it behind him with a wave of his hand.

He had to get off the ship and warn the Temple. No, he had to stop Grievous and Sidious. But if Sidious contacted someone off the ship and the clones turned at his command, a vast majority of the Jedi would die. And what of Anakin?

Obi-Wan leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Countless scenarios battered his mind, and none ended well. Almost all scenarios he imagined ended with a Galactic Empire and a Sith Lord ruling the galaxy. The images played in his head despite his best efforts to restrain them. He flinched against him.

Battle droids clamored at the door behind him. He didn't have time. Obi-Wan exhaled slowly and took another breath. He did his best to capture the uncertainty that gave way to fear and released it. As much as he could, at least. The horrific future clamored to mind despite his efforts to let it go.

Master Yoda had failed to defeat Sidious. Obi-Wan would never stand a chance against the Sith Lord on his own, especially not without Anakin.

Darth Vader.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. Before anything else, he had to warn the others.

"I need to get off this ship," he said aloud to affirm his decision, and then he sprinted down the hall.

At least his freefall down the elevator shaft had brought him closer to the hangar bay. If nothing was flyable, the escape pods remained functional, at least for the time being. At least, according to the nightmares ricocheting at the back of his mind.

Obi-Wan reached the hangar bay without disruption and found a heap of smoking battle droids in a charred patch on the ground. R2's handiwork, no doubt. Anakin's faithful astromech droid was nowhere to be found, likely on its way to rendezvous with them. Obi-Wan bypassed the downed droids and climbed into the cockpit of Anakin's starfighter.

The crash had done a number on it and knocked out most of its power relays. Its communications system blinked to life but failed to transmit to any long-range channels.

Obi-Wan leaned back in the seat and swept a hand through his hair. He'd hoped to reach the Temple directly to confer with the Masters, to let them know what he'd seen, to warn them, and to perhaps obtain guidance. In his heart, he hoped they'd tell him he was ill, that he imagined everything, and that everything would be okay.

That Anakin wouldn't become a Sith Lord known across the galaxy for his injustice and cruelty.

Again, Obi-Wan's heart, mind, and instincts, that intrinsic notion that always trickled through the Force, assured him he wasn't ill, that he'd imagined nothing, and that nothing would be okay. His instincts screamed at him like the alarms on a crashing ship to warn the Temple now or never, and to run hard and fast from there. Everything was going to take an awful turn—and fast.

Obi-Wan flicked to a local channel and rerouted to his comlink signal.

"Artoo, do you hear me?" Obi-Wan asked. Meanwhile, he toyed with the power systems, trying to get the starfighter functional enough to move. It was shot. "Artoo?"

A few scratchy beeps and whistles responded without a functional translation.

"Listen carefully. You must send a message to the Temple. Warn them that Palpatine is the Sith Lord we have been searching for."

And that Anakin would betray them and become Darth Vader.

"Warn them that the clones are set to turn on the Jedi throughout the galaxy. Artoo, do you copy?"

Obi-Wan waited for a few more beeps and whistles through the static, and he had no idea if the droid could hear him at all. He had to get moving. Soon, Grievous would flee with the last of the escape pods.

"Artoo, once you transmit to the Temple, jam all outgoing messages from the _Invisible Hand_." With finality, he added, "Once you've jammed the signal, find a way to destroy this ship. Do not let it land."

He ran his hand over his face and exhaled a harsh breath. If the message went, R2 would do whatever possible to destroy the ship with Grievous and Palpatine—Sidious—on it. With Anakin on it. No, with Darth Vader on it.

He could not hesitate. Too much was at stake.

Obi-Wan threw himself over the side of the starfighter and sprinted through the hangar and towards the bridge of the ship. The escape pods weren't far from there. If he got there ahead of the others, Grievous would be none the wiser.

He weaved in and out of doorways and leveled droids that dared enter his path. He met little resistance, and that worried him. By the time he found the escape pods behind the bridge, sweat matted his hair to his forehead and plastered his clothing to his skin. And just as he picked his perfect pod, one of the doors near the rear of the corridor slid open and revealed a host of battle droids armed, ready, and flanked by destroyers.

"Hands up, Jedi!" a chorus of droids rang.

Obi-Wan dove into an escape pod and swiveled into the seat as the hatch closed. He typed in ejection orders and overrode for the whole lot of them to go with him. Blaster fire rained down, and one of the nearby pods exploded. Then the _Invisible Hand_ expelled his vessel, and all of the other pods blasted out with him and drifted into open space.

An explosion followed in the corridor from whatever handiwork the droids had done, and it set a chain reaction through the entire forward section of the ship. Fractures spread through the hull like cracks in thin ice. Droids and sheets of metal tore away from the ship, sucked out by the sudden change in pressure as the escape pod bays shattered.

The fracturing slowed. It may not have been enough damage to initiate the ship's failure as Grievous' actions originally should have done. Hopefully R2 would account for that subtle change. Hopefully R2 would bring the whole ship down and Grievous and the Sith would be dealt with in one instant.

Obi-Wan guided the escape pod towards Coruscant, towards safety. He had to alert the Temple, and he had to be right about this, because otherwise he may well have sentenced two innocent men to death: the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and Anakin, his brother and his friend.

A terrifying clarity came to him through the Force. He saw the visions flash through his mind again, and not a trace of doubt remained. He couldn't explain the visions, but he couldn't doubt them, either, even when he tried. Even when he reasoned Anakin could never betray them, could never become a monster. Even when he tried so hard to convince himself it had all been a lie, a deception of Sith origin.

No, Obi-Wan couldn't convince himself of any of those things. The Force made certain to assure him of the validity of the vision: the _Invisible Hand_ careened through space towards Coruscant, the hull cracked in half and ready to split at any moment. Same as in the vision. Obi-Wan could not doubt.

"Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and he returned his focus to Coruscant. He swept his hands over his face and bowed his head. "Anakin, what have you done?"


	2. Crash Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and for the kudos~ This book is already entirely written/edited, so hopefully I can pump out updates rather quickly. Please enjoy~~~

Visions flashed through Anakin's mind of a lifetime yet to be lived, all the way to the moment of his death. Then it started over again.

Betrayal. The Jedi slaughtered. Padmé murdered. A fight to the death with Obi-Wan. Worlds subjugated and demolished. A daughter tortured and a son maimed.

Again. And again. And again.

And not only his memories—no, sometimes he saw Obi-Wan's memories as well. Mixed and mingled with his, two lifetimes entwined and then torn apart. Two sources of infinite, suffocating sorrow.

"There has been a breach," a raspy voice said, followed by a chain of wet coughs. "All of the escape pods launched or were destroyed. We lost pressure and the hull is compromised."

A klaxon alarm sang, distant and distorted. Obnoxious beeps in the room hammered at Anakin's head. He grimaced and bothered to open his eyes. His wrists were bound at his back, and he lay in the corner of what must have been the bridge of the ship. The Chancellor stood, silhouetted by an explosion through the viewer, with a lanky semi-droid nearby. Grievous. Countless droids busied themselves at the controls of the ship.

"Master Kenobi, no doubt." The Chancellor's voice dripped with hatred and malice. He turned and smiled kindly at Anakin, the same way he always had, like a loving parent. "It seems he has decided to abandon you."

His words, his smile, had the same effect as a vibroblade cutting through Anakin's core. Anakin choked, lungs paralyzed. And the visions repeated again. Betrayal and death. Tears slid down his face. Everything hurt and he could not for the life of him breathe, and his heart raced so fast he could feel it in his wrists, feel it pulsing in his ears.

What had he done? What had he become?

"Do not be afraid, my boy," the Chancellor said—no, Palpatine? Sidious? "I will never abandon you."

His smile was so kind, so familiar and warm. After years of feeling utterly alone, it meant the world to Anakin. It meant he was less defective, less a failure, less broken—less deserving of being discarded and abandoned—and it was all a lie. A façade.

The Chancellor smiled at him, his face serene, and then he looked out the viewer at Coruscant looming in the distance.

"Take us into the Senate District. Fly into the Senate Apartment Complex."

Anakin flew upright, and Grievous straightened and faced the Chancellor in equal surprise. Even the droids stopped and stared.

"We are already losing controls…" Grievous said with caution, and then he coughed several times. The droids littered around the bridge hesitated.

"I don't care. Do it."

"Roger, roger."

Coruscant grew until it overwhelmed their entire line of sight, shimmering metallic gray. The vessel tilted, adjusting course to suit the Chancellor's demand.

The ship gave up a scream, and the entire bridge ripped out beneath them. Anakin rolled into the wall where he remained conveniently tucked, but Grievous smashed into the control panel and the Chancellor staggered to the nearby seat. All of the lights went dark until only a red warning light and the control panels flashed and flickered.

Anakin's comlink beeped at his belt with a myriad of R2's signals.

"You had better land the ship, son," the Chancellor said in his sickeningly sweet voice. And for a moment, Anakin thought all of his nightmares were just that—nightmares, not reality, not the future. Sidious added, "Just as you did in the future to save us from certain doom."

Anakin's heart crawled into his throat and died. It hadn't been his imagination. It wasn't just another vision given to him by the Force that he couldn't understand or explain. The Chancellor had seen it, too. An entire lifetime laid bare for them to witness.

"You are not the only Force-user gifted with prophecy." The Chancellor stood and gently folded his hands behind his back. His eyes set ahead on the city-planet. "Now, you will take control of this vessel and land us safely or we will burn together with the Senate." A smile twisted on his steadfast face. "It seems I have a few treacherous senators to tend to."

Padmé. And Bail Organa—Bail spared the Jedi and would raise Leia! Panic slithered around Anakin's heart and lungs and squeezed. Fear. Fear leads to anger—Anakin shook his head. A lifetime in a mask flickered through his head. So many lives destroyed because of him.

So much death because of him, and now again Padmé would—and Bail, and many others.

"Release me and I will," Anakin said in haste, using the wall to climb to his feet. His legs trembled. "I will bring us down, just don't—"

Don't hurt them this time. Don't let Anakin hurt them, either.

The Chancellor smiled and waved his hand. The shackles around Anakin's wrists clattered to the floor.

Anakin rushed to the control panel and took the captain's seat. His instincts kicked in and guided his hand over the control panel, over their trajectory, over everything that would impact their descent. Most of the things that had destroyed the vessel in his vision had already been done by someone other than him. Had Obi-Wan sabotaged the ship before leaving? The Force had deemed to bring it down with or without Anakin's help.

Flames licked the vessel as they entered the atmosphere. Anakin took the controls and steadied their fall. Another abrupt lurch rattled the vessel, and the burden against the controls lightened. Perhaps it was only in his mind that he noticed.

_Don't worry. We're still flying half a ship._

Anakin glanced at the painfully vacant seat behind him. He struggled to swallow the lump still strangling the life out of him. Cracks spread in the transparisteel from the far right corner of the viewport. He returned his focus to guiding the blazing remnants of the ship to a safe landing point. It would do no good to crash the ship and kill hundreds along with them.

"Steady now," the Chancellor said, as calm and gentle as ever. "I sense your fear, Anakin."

Anakin almost let the affectionate tone comfort him as it had before, for years. Almost.

Webs of fractures spread in the viewport, whittling away at the transparisteel's durability. Ahead in the distance, several runways fanned in various directions amongst the towering buildings and shimmering silver. It almost looked pleasant through the flames engulfing them.

An idea wedge to the forefront of Anakin's mind, and it became a hammering thought that drowned out the suffocating panic and the rasping breath of Darth Vader. A way to end it then and there, a way to stop them all from causing anyone else harm.

Anakin swallowed hard, and then he jerked the controls forward and dropped the ship into a wild plummet, or as much of a plummet as could be had from a hunk of metal careening through open air. The Chancellor and Grievous shouted and tumbled towards the back of the bridge. Droids rolled after them. The maneuver ruptured the battered remnants of the vessel, and a large portion of the hull broke away. Part of the bridge cracked open and filled the space with wind and embers.

As the Chancellor, Grievous, and the droids gathered themselves and rose, Anakin pulled the controls to his chest in one violent motion, and the husk of a ship jerked to a near halt.

Everyone flew forwards, grasping at whatever they could to stop themselves. Railings shattered along with sections of the walls, giving them no purchase. Grievous and the droids slammed into the transparisteel, but the Chancellor managed to catch himself at the control panel.

Anakin flew from his seat. He barreled into the Chancellor and threw them both into the cracked viewport. With a violent push through the Force, Anakin shattered the transparisteel beneath them, and together they tumbled onto the burning prow of the ship.

Grievous and the droids disappeared in the wind, lost to the flames. The ship lurched forward, taken again by gravity, and careened away from the runways and plummeted straight down.

"You fool—" the Chancellor said. He clawed at the ship but slid away. "Hundreds will perish because of this—their blood is on your hands!"

Anakin scrambled to catch hold of something, anything, and managed to catch a twisted metal frame jutting out from amidst burning, liquid metal. His glove sizzled, but the heat didn't reach him. Nevertheless, his clothes smoked.

"You will join me," the Chancellor yelled over the roar of the wind. He had caught something out of Anakin's sight. His other hand flew up, and a streamer of Force lightning slammed into Anakin and sent him spiraling up the ship. "Your fate is already decided, I assure you."

Anakin rolled across a tongue of flames that stung through his robes. He controlled his spiral until his boot hit metal, and then he Force jumped into oblivion and let his instincts take hold. He slammed into what must have been one of the shattered escape pod bays and flew backwards into a wall. The pressure of gravity and the ship's downward spiral made it near impossible to move.

He had no idea what became of the Chancellor, of Darth Sidious, but Anakin knew it would be impossible to fight him on the outside of the crumbling ship. And as the endless cityscape of Coruscant spread out across his line of sight, he had a better sense of urgency towards the hundreds, if not thousands, of people below. The flaming ship would strike like a meteor and decimate the area.

The ship could not crash.

He pressed his boot to the wall and Force jumped straight up. Step, jump, step, jump. Up and up he climbed through the ship until he returned to the bridge. Klaxon alarms screamed everywhere. A familiar whistle welcomed him as he crossed the threshold. R2 had parked next to a control panel of the completely sideways bridge.

"We need to land," Anakin said as he hauled himself into the captain's seat. By then, his muscles burned, and sweat poured off him. He set to work on the vessel's controls, but his thoughts lingered on the Sith Lord lost somewhere on the prow. "Artoo, keep an eye out, would you?"

Anakin edged the ship up, down, and to the right, trying to steer it towards the runways but failing miserably. Too little of the ship remained for it to respond to such precise commands and broad changes in direction. His instincts took over, and he let them. He turned the ship down and aimed towards the bustling underbelly of Coruscant. He'd been in the area a few times, and the ground level had endless tracks of roads and highways where pedestrian traffic meandered.

Hopefully, they'd see him coming and get out of the way. Or he could Force shove them away if necessary. Anything to pave a path for the burning hunk of speeding metal.

Blaster fire slammed the remains of the ship and ripped control out of Anakin's hands. He whirled in his chair and found several starfighters—Jedi starfighters—encroaching. They fired on him and chipped away at what remained of the ship.

"Stop firing!" Anakin shouted, though he knew they couldn't hear. R2 screamed behind him. "They're firing on us!"

Things were not going as they had in his vision. They'd tried to put out the fires last time. They'd guided him down. Something had changed.

He grabbed the controls and pressed towards a long span of low-level highways for ground transports and civilian traffic. To his extreme satisfaction, the highways and streets had been vacated. They knew he was coming. Anakin shuffled the remnants of the ship in line as best he could and slammed into the ground. He flew from the seat and hit the control panel behind him, and R2 screamed and rolled.

Everything went quiet, but the world kept spinning. Anakin sat up on shaking arms and legs, blinking to clear black flecks from his vision. His vision blurred, and he rubbed a throbbing lump on the back of his head. They'd managed to land.

"Artoo?"

R2 whistled, beeped, and righted himself amidst a pile of debris, no worse for wear.

Anakin stumbled to one of the many holes leading out of the bridge, and he all but fell out of the ship and landed on his hands and knees. Little of the ship remained, hardly anything compared to the future he'd seen in his vision. How quickly things could change. The future was always in motion, or so certain Masters would say.

He tried to stand but fell again, and the hum of lightsabers lifted his head and made him squint.

Master Windu jogged towards him, his violet lightsaber glowing in the scant light of Coruscant's lower world. A harsh and jagged edge marred his already normally severe face. When he stopped, he allowed his lightsaber to remain ignited, held in such a way that he was prepared to use it. His fierce gaze fell to Anakin alone.

"Come with us, young Skywalker."

Anakin blinked several times, still trying to clear his vision. He managed to rise. Several Jedi gathered around him—surrounded him—with blue and green lightsabers ignited. All of their eyes were on him, full of hostility and grief and not an ounce of concern or compassion.

He frowned at their reception, and then visions of Darth Vader and death stabbed through his mind. He clasped at his head and grimaced. The reality blurred back into place, and Anakin looked into Master Windu's eyes.

Master Windu looked back at him with the same expression, with the same resolute judgment, as he'd looked upon Sidious before Anakin cut off his hand and allowed Sidious to murder him.

He knew. They knew. All of the Jedi stood against him. They knew what he was—somehow. And he couldn't breathe.

Obi-Wan stood in a streak of light at a distance. He did not wield his lightsaber, but his expression was as cold as the rest. Full of disappointment and sorrow. He watched from afar as the Jedi surrounded Anakin and herded him forward, a prisoner awaiting judgment. He made no move to come closer, to support him, to defend him.

And then Obi-Wan looked away.

It was all happening again, the same as it had in the vision.

"Master," Anakin said, but he couldn't produce sound. His words wouldn't carry. _Help me._

Anakin saw a flash of the future, on a beach of black sand. Flames devoured him. Obi-Wan looked away. Turned and walked away and never looked back while Anakin burned.

His words echoed.

_You were the Chosen One! You were meant to destroy the Sith, not join them!_

Anakin staggered, but no one helped him to stand. He clasped at his chest that refused oxygen. His body burned from the inside out, haunted by the flames of the future. Sheer agony ripped through his bones, tightened every muscle, and boiled his blood.

"Master!" Anakin called out, but his voice betrayed him and broke.

 _You were my brother, Anakin._ _I loved you._

Loved.

Past tense. Conditional. No longer.

Obi-Wan turned and walked away.


	3. Clone Crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments and kudos, friends! I hope you'll continue to enjoy~~

Obi-Wan wiped a line of sweat off his face as he stepped into one of the many vast meeting halls within the Temple. The few members of the Council still remaining at the Temple stood in the center of a ring of tables with a holoprojector between them. Images flashed in rapid procession, too small and too quick for Obi-Wan to decipher.

"What is the current situation?" Master Windu asked, his steadfast calm unshakable despite dire circumstances.

"The vision spread even to those with weak Force sensitivity," Obi-Wan explained. He stepped to one of the tables and leaned with both hands flat on its cool surface. The dead weight of exhaustion smothered him, and he couldn't shake it. The desperation felt by the entire planet muddled the Force with darkness. "Word spread rapidly. Clones are being targeted, civilians riot in the streets… It's utter chaos."

" _A dangerous thing, fear is_ ," Master Yoda said from a holoprojector image standing aside Master Windu. He shook his head, and his ears and eyes sank. " _Clouds judgment most severely, it does._ "

Master Windu pressed a button on the holoprojector, and images scattered in the air over the tables and throughout the room. Ghostly and horrific images played before their eyes. Civilians and Jedi alike armed themselves against the clones and slaughtered them. In turn, the clones fought back. A massacre ensued.

" _All across the galaxy_ ," Master Yoda said, and he waved a hand at the displays. Then he brought the hand to his chest and clasped the front of his tunic. " _Much, fear has cost_."

"How could this happen?" Obi-Wan ran a hand over his beard and finally straightened. His feet moved him across the room before he even thought to take a step, and he paced a slight circuit near the door.

How could a Sith Lord have existed under their noses for years? How could he have constructed such an error-proof scheme and played them all like mindless pieces in an intricate, intergalactic game?

How could Anakin choose what he did?

A moment of silence passed, deafening.

"Skywalker claimed a chip was being used against the clones," Master Windu said, almost cautiously, and his gaze lingered on Obi-Wan.

All of them watched him, likely gauging his reaction for turmoil, but Obi-Wan no longer had the faculties to care. After only a day, word of the vision spread like a ravaging disease until the whole galaxy knew of it and felt the need to react. Every Jedi saw the vision, too, and in their minds had lived their lives through to their deaths. Obi-Wan had lived his life and, somehow, Anakin's as well. He saw and knew too much, though he did his best to forget both.

Obi-Wan put his emotions in check. He was worried for the clones and still reeling over Anakin, but he mustn't allow those things to cloud his judgment or incite fear. He took several slow breaths to clear his mind and allow his thoughts to settle.

"A chip?" he asked, deflecting from the sore subject of his errant former Padawan. "What sort of chip?"

"We had several clone troopers placed under rigorous examination." Master Windu tapped at the holoprojector. Another image appeared directly above the device of a singular scan of a human brain. An orange line traced a circular spot on the right side of the brain. If not for the outline, it would have been invisible. "Every clone we examined has this peculiar mark."

"The clones were modified to prevent aggression and to promote obedience—" Obi-Wan said, and the rest of his words died at the end of his tongue. He ran a hand over his beard again and paced a smaller circle. "Obedience to an order such as Order 66."

" _So it seems_." Master Yoda leaned heavy on his gimer stick.

"We need to stop this," Obi-Wan said, but his breath escaped him. Pressure squeezed the air out of his lungs. "The clones are not at fault."

"We have researchers looking into it, but we can't determine what frequency or signal triggers the chips to activate. As of yet, we have no method of barring that signal or disabling the chips." Master Windu clicked off the displayed image of the brain. He, too, leaned with one hand on the table. His expression remained static, but the darkness bore on him. "It seems surgical removal is the only viable solution."

"But that will take time," Obi-Wan said, and his eyes skimmed the images playing throughout the room. "Time we do not have if we hope to save the army. And the Order—he could very well activate the chips today."

" _Aware of this, we are_ ," Master Yoda said, more tired than stern. " _A thorough trap, Darth Sidious laid for us. Consider all options to preserve the most lives, we must, but time itself opposes us_."

Master Ti placed a gentle hand on the holoprojector as her eyes scanned the horrific images of death throughout the galaxy. "We should evacuate the clones until the chips can be successfully removed."

" _Evacuate them_?" Master Yoda tipped his head in her direction.

"Remove them to a safer location where they can pose no harm to themselves or to others." Master Ti smoothed her hand over the projector. Her face snapped towards Master Yoda. "We could evacuate them to Kamino and have the Kaminoans remove the chips. If the order is from us, they should oblige."

"Evacuation would take time, and people are dying now," Obi-Wan muttered behind his hand, mostly to himself. They had no other options. The clones could turn at any moment, slaughter the Jedi same as in the vision, and open the door for Sidious and his Empire.

" _Another choice, we do not have_." Master Yoda's wrinkled face tightened, severe. " _Shaak, prepare ships to transport the clones. Leave from the Temple immediately, they must. Obi-Wan, together with your clone commander, lead the clones to the Temple, you should_."

"The Temple?" Master Windu's brow furrowed. It was not a matter of questioning Master Yoda—they all had a similar thought. "Their targets are the Jedi, young and old…"

An image of slaughtered younglings flashed through Obi-Wan's mind, and he couldn't help but wince and turn away from the others. He scrubbed his face again. Despite his best efforts to clear his mind, the images played anyway. His stomach turned.

" _Disarm them, we will, and assign them to secured facilities until transport can be made, for their protection and ours_." Master Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the floor, his way of asserting that his decision had been made.

No one argued, as no better solution existed.

"We'll transmit another signal to the Jedi throughout the galaxy. Hopefully we can funnel all of the clones back to Kamino before Darth Sidious makes a move. Or perhaps we will succeed and find another means to disable those chips." Master Windu stared at one of the images. A Jedi slashed through a dozen clones before being shot in the back and falling off the display. Quietly, almost uncertainly, he added, "May the Force be with us."

Obi-Wan and Master Ti made for the door but halted when the lights in the room flickered. All of the holograms rippled, swayed, and disappeared. Then they blinked on again and the flashing ceased. Obi-Wan frowned and glanced at Masters Yoda and Windu. He felt their momentary bewilderment flutter through the Force.

"What was that?" Obi-Wan asked no one in particular.

He scanned the room, the lights, and the images. Nothing else out of the ordinary happened. On Coruscant where power fed off multiple generators and reactors at all times, electrical disturbances immediately gave Obi-Wan a sinister feeling and put him at unease. Yet another thing to demand concern when everything already spiraled out of control.

"I will have someone look into our power systems," Master Windu said, and he waved Obi-Wan and Master Ti away to their own responsibilities. "Go."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Obi-Wan muttered.

Heinous ripples of unease coursed through him to put him on edge. Guidance through the Force of things to come, of impending danger. Master Ti offered a curt nod. Yet they could not manage everything and must instead focus on their tasks with their whole mind. They must stay in the present without fear of what may or may not happen.

Obi-Wan parted ways with Master Ti in the hall and hurried down the corridor towards the training halls where the troopers often lingered. Commander Cody and several other clones should still have been at the Temple after their abrupt debriefing and delay of further orders. He approved of Master Yoda's idea to take Cody, as a familiar face might make the sudden orders and transition easier. Not smooth, but smoother.

He froze halfway down the hall.

Two senior Padawan escorted Padmé down the corridor, all solemn, faces unreadable. Padmé wore a dress of many layers and a crown twisted through her hair, dressed for her role as a senator. The Senate had met immediately and hadn't ceased deliberations since word of the vision got out, and yet she appeared a picture of order and calm.

When she locked eyes with him, something in her twisted and broke, and a wave of agony washed over her.

Obi-Wan set his eyes forward and marched down the hall, and he had to avert his face entirely as he passed her. His stomach twisted, and the tightness in his chest once again stripped him of oxygen. Images clamored to the forefront of his mind of her strangled in the air by the man she trusted and loved, the man who had betrayed her. Obi-Wan saw her fall to the ground, lifeless. He watched life fade from her eyes as the devastation, as the horror, snuffed out her will to live.

He watched as Anakin killed her.

Obi-Wan could only imagine why they brought her to the Temple and what they intended to say to her—and he left his thoughts at that and allowed himself to think of nothing else. If he gave any allowances, more would come, and then still others. No, his focus needed to remain on present circumstances, on saving lives, on his duty. So he set his eyes forward and found a point above a door on which to focus all of his attention and allowed his mind to run utterly blank.

He felt the chilling weight of Padmé's gaze the entire way down the corridor.


	4. Cold Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for kudos and comments, friends! Your time spent here with this story is appreciated, and I hope that it's time well spent and that you're enjoying it~~

"What are Darth Sidious' plans? When will he execute Order 66?" Master Windu stood in the open doorway with a few formless Jedi flanking him. The gray walls of the tiny holding cell closed in around them, and they melted into dull, colorless blurs.

Anakin blinked at the tears in his eyes, and he scratched at his head. Everything blurred together after a while. It was hard to think, hard to see. Images flashed through his mind of his life as a monster, of the death and destruction of everything he held dear. Again and again and again. He pressed his back to the cool metal wall of his small, empty space. It stung like ice against his skin through the light tunic he wore, almost too cold to touch. His skin tingled and burned from the world inside his head and the flames that ate him alive. He scratched at his shoulders and then his legs.

"How do we disable the chips?" Master Windu asked in a clipped tone.

"I don't know," Anakin said, and he choked on the words. His throat tightened. Everything was on fire. He could barely hear himself. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped an arm around them. His flesh hand went to his face and then to his hair—he still had hair. "I don't know anything…"

"The clones are dying," Master Windu said, more cold than before. "People all over the galaxy are slaughtering them for fear of what they will do. If we don't stop the chips, the clones will be annihilated."

A pause for emphasis. Anakin swept both hands through his hair and then covered his face. He thought of the clones that had already fallen, his friends and his comrades. Rex—was Rex okay out there with Ahsoka? And the others? He should have listened to Fives. Should have trusted his ally. Shouldn't have been so blind. So many dead.

And the rest, against their will, marched behind him to destroy the Jedi—the Temple. He made slaves of them all.

"Tell me what you know," Master Windu raised his voice and penetrated through the thoughts echoing and hammering through Anakin's head. Barely. "What is it Sidious intends to do now?"

"I don't know anything," Anakin said, and he sputtered out the words between choked-back sobs. "If I did, I would tell you. I wasn't working for him. I didn't know. I wouldn't—" And then he stopped. _I wouldn't do anything like that_.

Darth Vader begged to differ. He had made that choice. He chose it of his own volition. He was capable of it all, and more.

Tears streamed down his face. Anakin bowed his head and wept, and he gritted his teeth to restrain the sobs. Tears soaked the thin linen over his knees and stung like liquid fire against his flesh.

Master Windu's footsteps boomed out the door, the rustling fabric of his robes the sound of a violent waterfall pounding stone. Anakin flinched as the noises echoed. Such a small room with few distractions, and yet every distraction was amplified and intrusive. Everything was so loud.

Visions, over and over again. Anakin killed his wife and killed his Master. Enslaved planets. Cut off his son's hand. Tortured his daughter and destroyed the world she loved. Again and again and again.

"Ani," said Padmé's voice, and all of the images, all of the echoing sounds vanished.

Anakin snapped up his head. She stood in the doorway and stared at him. It was difficult to notice in the low lights, but her face had lost several shades of color. Her eyes, listless and broken. Her brow furrowed at him, because of him, and she gave the slightest shake of her head. She stepped forward.

"Stay away!" Anakin flew to his feet, his back and hands flat against the frigid metal wall. Chills reverberated through his muscles and bones, and he trembled so violently his feet slid and he almost went back to the floor. He braced himself to stay standing. "Stay away from me!"

"Ani," Padmé said, and she stepped forward. The two Knights at the door took her arms to stop her, but she slapped their hands away. Her face contorted from grief to anger in an instant. "Let go of me." Then she proceeded into the room. "Anakin, please—"

"Stay back!" Anakin shouted at her. In his mind, he choked her, and she fell and died. He relived it at least a dozen times before she took another step towards him. "Stop! I will kill you!" He shook, and the room shook with him, the durasteel walls groaning.

"Senator," one of the Jedi said in warning, and he and the other Knight scanned the walls.

Nevertheless, Padmé took another step.

"Don't!" Anakin backed into a corner, and he waved her away. The room shivered.

Padmé moved forward but hit an invisible wall. Her fingers splayed over it, and she looked around in confusion. The Jedi with her frowned and exchanged glances.

"Anakin, please don't do this," Padmé said, and she slipped her hands along whatever invisible force held her back from him.

Anakin felt her touch against the invisible wall—had he created it? He couldn't tell.

"I kill you," he told her, and tears rolled down his face. He gathered himself and told her with great certainty, "I'll do it. You have to stay away from me. You have to go. I—" He huddled into the corner and slid to the floor, drawing his knees to himself and wrapping his arms around them. His hand went back to his hair—he still had hair. Choke, and then she was dead. Choke, and then she was dead. Over and over. The words barely escaped him with a sob. "I kill you." He buried his face and let his icy tears slice down his skin.

"I know," Padmé said, quietly. So far away. "I love you, Anakin."

"Come, Senator," one of the Jedi said, far away, like through water.

The booming roar of shuffling feet and rustling clothes stabbed through Anakin's ears, and he flinched and covered his head with both hands. It all echoed along with the screams in his head. Screams of younglings, screams of his victims.

Again, and again, and again.

The door shut, the lights dimmed, and the walls closed in. It was freezing, and tremors swept through his muscles. He folded his arms over his knees and dug his fingers into the flesh of his upper arms until his arms bled. Dark spots speckled his linen sleeves.

When had he become a monster? What was the moment he turned? When had he become the thing that he hated? The thing that those who loved him hated?

Padmé, a senator for democracy, and Anakin crushed democracy underfoot and installed an empire. Obi-Wan, the righteous Jedi, and Anakin became a Sith and destroyed the Order. His mother, a slave, and Anakin became a slaver and denounced freedom. He had thrown everything away for a power that could do nothing, could save no one.

And Anakin made that choice.

"I didn't know," he muttered to himself, as if Master Windu were still questioning him, as if he could still make his arguments, but no one was listening. No one would care, because he didn't care, either. His arguments meant nothing. Darth Vader proved he was a monster, proved Anakin Skywalker was weak, pathetic, and already dead.

Anakin clawed at his itchy, burning skin and collapsed to the cold patch of shadows on the metal floor. When his head thumped down, his tears sprinkled the floor, and the gray colors swam before his eyes.

Another twenty years he would spend slaughtering, tearing down, and destroying. His mother would hate him. She would have rejected him as Obi-Wan and Padmé had done. As the Jedi had done. Rightfully so. They were right all along. He was dangerous.

The lights flickered in his private prison, and he blinked at the darkness fading in and out of existence. When the lights restored, he stared at them on the ceiling until they blinded him and stung more tears to life in his eyes. His mind went to the wires and the cables behind the lights, to the frames of durasteel cast around his room, to the miniscule components that held it all together. His mind wandered and picked it all apart, piece by piece.

And as his thoughts became wholly consumed by the inner workings of his prison, for just a moment, all of the visions ceased and the screams went quiet.


	5. A Contradictory Existence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for the kind words and kudos, my friends! I truly am glad this story is enjoyable and hope it won't disappoint all the way to the end. Thank you for your time! It is so very much appreciated~

Clones marched in droves onto the last of the cargo ships Master Ti had managed to secure for their voyage to Kamino. Stripped of their armor and their weapons, the troopers looked like ordinary civilians save the peculiarity of hundreds of men wearing the same face. Most retained their formality, but a few thumped at each other's backs and caused a bit of noise on the way.

Obi-Wan wondered if they hadn't been members of the 501st.

"That should be everyone, General," Cody said, and he approached Obi-Wan from the tail end of the group. Like those gone before him, he wore a simple tunic and trousers.

"Thank you, Cody." Obi-Wan offered him a nod and watched the last batch of men trickle towards the ship.

They had sent orders throughout Coruscant and gathered everyone who responded. Aware of the circumstances they would soon face under Sidious' command, the clones obeyed without resistance and seemed generally amicable about the whole situation. Nevertheless, there was always a chance some lingered and would become a threat. It would assign them a worse fate than being shipped to Kamino if they were discovered, given the present attitude towards clones.

"I should be on my way." Cody pulled back his shoulders and offered a quick salute with two fingers to his brow. "It has been an honor, General."

"No farewells here, Commander," Obi-Wan said with a smile he could barely muster. "This is a temporary arrangement. Once the lot of you are freed of those abominations in your heads, I'll expect you back for duty. No dallying. We have a war to win."

"Sir." Cody smiled in return, but it was equally as pathetic as his own. He joined the others on the ship, and the hatch closed behind the last of them.

The large vessel took to the air and blasted a gust of wind over the platform. Obi-Wan shielded his eyes and watched as the ship rose and gathered speed until it was little more than a black speck against the bright sky.

"It won't be the same when they come back," said one Padawan to another as they left the platform after aiding the clones with their exodus.

"I heard they won't help us anymore," replied the other.

Their conversation continued, but they moved out of Obi-Wan's hearing. Obi-Wan dropped his hand and stared at the sky.

Jedi, senators, and civilians alike muttered the same things. Somewhere along the way, they came to believe the chip was all that made the clones fight, that their willingness to aid in the war was wholly dependent on that small spot fixed in their brains. Some suggested researching the chips further so that the Republic might learn to use them rather than remove them. Studies were already underway with the few chips they had surgically removed before the evacuation.

Exhaustion grated on Obi-Wan's nerves, and he held his tongue against such discussions. He hadn't slept much the last few days. He felt as weary and worn as his older self when he received Leia's call for help, as he trained Luke, and as he died at the hands of Darth Vader. Tired and ready to move on.

He left the platform and aimed next for the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He'd heard Master Windu had last been spotted there, and he hoped to confer with him before catching a moment of respite. Even a moment's meditation might do him well.

So heavy, the exhaustion. He'd aged twenty years, it felt, as a result of those visions.

"Obi-Wan!" Padmé's voice rang down a vast corridor and echoed, causing several passing Jedi to pause and look.

Obi-Wan stopped but inhaled a deep breath and let go of the turbulent thoughts clamoring to his mind. So easy it was to look at her and see her strangled and cast to the ground by Anakin. So easy to watch the light fade from her eyes as she died. He inhaled again, let it go, and turned.

She ran to him, stared straight into his eyes, and drew to a stop at a slight distance. A storm of emotions engulfed her that Obi-Wan did not have the faculties to attempt to understand. She said nothing and only stared at him with her face twisted in grief.

Though he had thought kindly of her, a chasm built by deception now stood between them. He had asked her once, years earlier, to leave Anakin, to not indulge him in his boyish desires. Instead, she now carried Anakin's children. Of course Obi-Wan had suspected something between them, though to what extent he never would have imagined. But to learn the truth in such a way, to learn both had disobeyed and lied for years—it stung.

"Why are you still here?" he asked. A hint of reservation tainted the question.

Padmé brought a hand to her pregnant belly, the bump plainly visible in the casual gown she wore. Her frown deepened.

"Master Yoda said the twins are too important to risk—that they are the only hope for the future if Sidious' plan succeeds." She paused, and flames of fury ignited in her eyes. "He speaks as though Anakin has already fallen."

Obi-Wan looked away.

"Why aren't you helping him?" Padmé asked, her tone accusing. "You haven't been to see him, have you? He hasn't given up yet, Obi-Wan, but he will if he isn't helped. He won't see me, but perhaps you—"

"You don't understand." Obi-Wan couldn't look her in the eye, so he maintained a focus on the slippers she wore half concealed by her gown. Images of death clawed into his head along with unlived memories of a battle on Mustafar—he'd tried and failed to give Anakin the chance to come back. All to no avail. He pushed the thoughts down and away. Still, he shuddered. "He cannot be saved."

"You've already given up on him," Padmé muttered. He couldn't look at her face, but he felt the weight of her sorrow. It heaped on top of his own, crushing him. Her voice rose a pitch and drew the attention of more passing Jedi. "He hasn't fallen yet!"

"But he will," Obi-Wan said, and he knew it in his heart. They had all known it would happen even when he was just a boy. They had been right—and Qui-Gon had been wrong. "He will…" Obi-Wan choked on the words, same as he had in the vision when he told Padmé what Anakin had done. "He kills younglings… he kills you, he massacres entire worlds. Padmé, you didn't see what I saw—"

"Yes, I did," she said curtly, and the ferocity in her voice drew his eyes to her face. Such stubborn resolve she wore, offset by a quivering lower lip. Tears shone in her eyes, but none fell. Her hand lingered on her belly. "I saw my future, and I saw theirs. I know everything that Darth Vader does." Her voice sank to a whisper. "But I also know that he comes back. Anakin is never lost entirely. He needed help then, just as he does now." More tears welled up, but somehow she restrained them. Her face contorted, and her voice broke. "Please don't let Sidious take him from me again."

"That is Anakin's choice to make." Obi-Wan turned and proceeded down the corridor. If he stayed, he might break.

"You love him, don't you?" Padmé cried out, and everyone in the hall did their best to ignore her. Obi-Wan did, too. "I know that you do! You can't let Sidious have him!"

Obi-Wan halted, though he didn't remember doing so. He stood in the middle of the hall, the world silently passing by.

A different parade of memories stirred in his mind at her words. Palpatine had always taken an interest in Anakin, and Obi-Wan and the Jedi had never liked it. Yet they allowed it. They had all been deceived for so long. And in their deception, they had given a Padawan to a Sith Lord.

But Anakin was no longer a Padawan. He had been Knighted, fought in a war, led armies, and won great battles. He had been trained to do better—to be better—and still he gave in to attachment, to rage. He slaughtered Tuskens already, and he would slaughter again.

So Obi-Wan told himself as he shoved all of the visions aside to reclaim his mind. So he told himself for the next 20 years as he tried to understand how he had failed Anakin, what he had done wrong. He shook his head.

"I do love him," he finally said to Padmé without looking back. "But I cannot help him." Then his feet moved him.

"What does Anakin do to slavers?" Padmé asked, desperation dripping off her lips. "What does he do to people who tear down the weak? What does he do to people who incite wars and destroy lives? What does he do to monsters?" Her voice broke, and he kept walking. "Because right now he sees all of those things in himself. He will destroy himself if you let him, Obi-Wan!"

Another misstep. Obi-Wan stumbled, corrected his footing, and strode forward without looking back.

Padmé's sobs echoed behind him.

He reached the turbolift without distraction, without a thought, his feet moving without his mind. He barely heard the explosion, the horrific crunching of metal twisting and ripping apart. It took a moment to register even as the floor vibrated beneath him. The shouting drew him back.

His stomach twisted into a wretched knot. A strange sensation of dizziness came over him. He wasn't breathing.

Several younglings bolted towards him, all shouting. Most ran past, but he managed to grab one's arm.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan asked, and he couldn't hear himself. Blood roared in his ears.

"It's Skywalker, sir," the youngling murmured, voice trembling.

"He attacked?"

The youngling shook her head.

"He collapsed the chamber in on himself. It's really bad." She slipped past, walking backwards. "We have to get help." She followed her peers and vanished on a turbolift.

Obi-Wan stared at empty space.

_He collapsed the chamber in on himself._

_It's really bad._

Ice flooded Obi-Wan's veins.

Anakin.

More shouting echoed through the hall, through his mind, but it was faint against his pulse hammering in his own head. He ran, and for the life of him, he couldn't catch his breath. He reached the Detention Center to find at least a dozen Knights clustered in the hall outside one door. Lights flickered. The door to the chamber stuck at an odd angle, one side in, one side sideways and out. The nearest walls had crumpled like aluminum, bringing the ceiling down with them.

He pushed through those loitering on the fringes of the group until he stood in the battered doorway. Several Knights and Master Fisto stood in the room, hands outstretched, wielding the Force to keep the durasteel from collapsing.

In the center of the room, Anakin sat on his knees, his own hands out. The walls groaned and caved in on him as his control of the Force overpowered that of the Master and Knights trying to spare him. Blood trickled down his forehead, and dark bruises littered his swollen face, bare hand, and feet. His mechno-arm was twisted at an odd angle, and one of his legs was crushed under a chunk of metal. And still he pulled at the framework holding his prison together, bringing another sheet of metal down on his head. Master Fisto stopped it an inch over Anakin, but Anakin kept pulling.

Chills swept through Obi-Wan.

"Anakin!" he yelled, and his usual disapproving tone escaped him out of sheer habit.

Like a child caught in a naughty act, Anakin froze. His attempts to tear the room down disengaged, and Master Fisto and the others managed to shove the debris away from him and restrain him. Anakin fell backwards as they took his arms. Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan stared back.

Sweat and blood plastered Anakin's hair flat to his deathly pale skin. Dark circles shadowed his eyes now so lackluster and lifeless. Only a shadow remained of the once stubborn and arrogant Jedi Knight and General, only a shadow remained of his former Padawan and friend. As close to a corpse as one might find among the living.

Obi-Wan turned and took several slight steps down the hall. Away. Healers shoved past him. Others spoke, but he didn't hear them. He broke from the crowd before he stopped and set a hand on the wall for balance.

Once again, the visions forced themselves into his head. A dangerous boy brought to the Jedi. An innocent child groomed by a Sith. A brilliant, genius Padawan with terrifying skill in the Force. A lonely, isolated student who hid his true self. A vengeful murderer of Tusken Raiders bent on selfish retaliation. A courageous hero who saved lives with no thought of himself. A man in a mask who destroyed all who stood against him. A man in a mask who loved and died and destroyed the Sith. Thus was the contradictory nature of Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan couldn't reconcile what he knew, what his future self knew, and what Anakin had lived and would live. He placed a hand on his throbbing forehead. He needed to rest—to meditate—to seek guidance from the Force. Anything to help him understand. Had the Force truly intended for all of this, or had the dark side muddled the Force's nature so much? Had they already lost?

He slid off the wall and stepped down the corridor. Then his comlink beeped.

Dozens of comlinks chirped in the hall, and every last Jedi reached for their equipment. The knot in Obi-Wan's stomach tightened, and he swallowed bile. He drew his comlink, and at once, all of the devices flickered to life.

A hologram of Palpatine—of Sidious—appeared over every comlink. He grinned from beneath his hood, and then he threw back his cowl to reveal his aged but healthy face, unmarred by injury or corruption. He licked the front of his teeth, and then he spoke with such pleasure and joy in his words that for a moment, Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel the Empire already existed, that the dark side had already won.

Sidious grinned and spoke with great satisfaction.

" _Do it now. Execute Order 66_."

Obi-Wan dropped his comlink and ran.


	6. Order 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, commenting, and kudos-ing! Your time with this story is appreciated~ Please enjoy~

Obi-Wan ran through the Temple to meet with Master Windu and Master Yoda, who had just returned. All throughout the Temple, every holoprojector, great and small, displayed the image of Sheev Palpatine and transmitted his order. Immediately thereafter, his laughter echoed throughout the Temple, a haunting testament to his claim on the place and on their futures.

Word spread quickly, and Obi-Wan heard only in passing comments that the HoloNet had been completely taken over by Sidious' image and voice, that he somehow took over every broadcast channel and every outgoing signal. Only unlike in the future, he let the Jedi in on the game.

Obi-Wan swept open the door to the Research Lab and puffed for air. Masters Yoda and Windu acknowledged him with a look but nothing more.

The instant he entered, Dr. Gubacher threw up his arms, his fingers wagging along with his tentacles.

"Found it!" the doctor exclaimed, and his fingers flew over the screens in front of him. "If one leaves a channel open long enough, just about anyone can crack the code." A small card ejected from the panel in front of him, and he pinched it between two long fingers and hefted it into the air. "We should be able to use this card to transmit a jamming signal on the same frequency as this first message. Whatever response he's triggered, we can block it—temporarily, at least."

"Temporarily is better than nothing." Master Windu pushed his comlink. "Master Windu to the Central Security Station."

" _Master,_ " arose the voice on the other end, someone that Obi-Wan couldn't place.

"I'm sending Dr. Gubacher with a signal card. Adjust our beacon to transmit to this frequency and allow the doctor to do the rest."

As Master Windu spoke, Dr. Gubacher spidered across the floor on his tentacles to the door.

" _I-I am sorry, sir_ ," the voice on the comlink said.

"Sorry?" Master Windu echoed, and Gubacher stopped.

" _All of the outgoing signal relays have been destroyed. We've been working for hours to repair them."_

Master Windu, Master Yoda, and Obi-Wan exchanged looks.

"Destroyed?" Master Yoda's expression sank, and he leaned heavy on his gimer stick.

" _We pulled the security footage. Please look._ "

A hologram blinked to life above Master Windu's comlink, and it took everything in Obi-Wan not to look away. Clones who often stayed at or near the Temple, usually those under the Masters' legions, shuffled into the Security Station and busied themselves at the control panels.

"Where were the Jedi? What about security?" Master Windu asked, taking a more formal and stern tone. His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened.

" _The Knights on duty at the time, sir… have gone missing._ " A beat later, they added, " _It must have happened shortly after the vision, before the clones departed."_

Obi-Wan rubbed his brow. He gathered, if they built a timeline, they'd see the destruction of the relays would connect perfectly with the flickering lights from earlier.

"They don't look disoriented," he said about the clones in the security footage. "They look fully aware of what they're doing."

The clones' eyes were alert, their focus intense, their actions decided, full of resolution. He didn't recognize any of them as his men. He was a bit ashamed of his own relief.

"Traitors." Master Yoda's head sank, and he closed his eyes. "Know where they stand with the Republic, now they do, and have chosen a different path."

Obi-Wan shook his head and stared at the air as the security images disappeared.

Master Windu's comlink beeped again, and he tapped it hastier than before.

"What?" he asked, his tone increasingly clipped with every call.

" _We have an incoming fleet of vessels, Master. Heavily armed and closing in fast. Dozens of them. Without the clone troopers, sir, we are heavily outnumbered."_

Master Windu dropped his arms and didn't bother responding. He stared at nothing.

"We fight," he said, and he inhaled slowly. He tapped his comlink and spoke carefully, quietly, in a steady and reassuring voice. "All Jedi, prepare for battle."

"He comes." Master Yoda raised his head, and his eyes went to the ceiling. They scanned from one side of the room to the other. "The shadow of Darth Sidious, upon us it is." He closed his eyes again and shook his head, both hands pressed hard on the gimer stick. "Clouded, the future remains."

And that was it. Order 66 had been executed despite their advanced warning, and with a majority of their forces still scattered across the galaxy, they hadn't the means to fight. The Republic had few soldiers in operation outside of the clones. They had become too complacent, too comfortable sacrificing clones while not lifting a hand themselves. Too comfortable with the Jedi being their peacekeepers rather than aiding in the effort. Everyone had become so complacent, and the Senate and the Jedi enabled it.

Sidious had spent the last dozen years setting up that very moment and making it impossible for them to succeed. And he broadcast his message across the HoloNet to ensure the whole galaxy knew of his brilliance, so that all knew he was in charge. He laid claim to his Empire in that single, wretched order.

"So what should I…" Gubacher started, and then he silenced, his arms dropping to his sides. He stood in front of the door, the card still pinched between his fingers.

Obi-Wan ran both hands over his face and turned to the door, and he paused again as Gubacher wriggled his tentacles. Obi-Wan straightened, his heart stuttering at even the slightest prospect of an idea, and then he whirled.

"The HoloNet," he said aloud, and his eyes hopped from the Masters to Gubacher. "Would that card broadcast from the HoloNet station? Their reach extends to the Outer Rim, at least to channels accepting them. That sort of range would capture most if not all of the clones."

"Hypothetically, yes," Gubacher said, and he gave a limp shrug. His tentacles splayed on the floor. "It would take some adjustments and—"

"Would it work?" Obi-Wan asked. The knot in his stomach had yet to release. They didn't have time to dither.

"Yes." Though a bit curt and hostile, Gubacher nodded. "It would help to have one of the workers who knows their devices, but—"

"We have to try," Obi-Wan said to Masters Yoda and Windu. "The clones are innocent. We mustn't slaughter them needlessly."

"Go," Master Yoda said. "May the Force be with you."

An abrupt answer without hesitation. Master Yoda desired to spare the clones as well as the Jedi. All life mattered. Obi-Wan dipped his head in acknowledgement and then spun on his heels. He was halfway to the door and to Dr. Gubacher before Master Windu's comlink beeped again.

"What is it?" he answered, his jaw tight.

" _Step outside, Master,"_ Master Ti said through the device. " _You will want to see this with your own eyes._ "

As one, Obi-Wan and the others raced to the nearest balcony with a clear view of Coruscant's sprawling silver skyline. A dozen flagships descended upon the capital, and hundreds of fighters swarmed the sky like a massive flock of shimmering birds.

Obi-Wan took a breath and couldn't seem to capture any air. He tried again and inhaled slow and deep. Visions clawed their way to his mind of a horrific future, but he shoved them down. Everything was already different than the vision they'd seen. And they would keep resisting the fall of the Republic and the rise of the Sith or die trying.

He grabbed Gubacher's arm and yanked him back inside, and when the doctor scrambled and muttered about disrespect, Obi-Wan kindly flung the larger fellow over his shoulder and Force sprinted towards the hangar to collect a fighter. They'd need it.

"I say!" Gubacher hollered, his tentacles flailing. That was the most resistance he gave.

"Don't let go of that card," Obi-Wan demanded.

They didn't have time to waste. They had a Sith Lord's plans to disrupt.

Obi-Wan all but flew into the hangar and flung the doctor ahead of him into an open cockpit. He dove into the pilot's seat and checked all systems. Everything was ready to go. Dozens of fighters launched ahead of him as his comrades sped into the fight.

Obi-Wan shot out the hangar and into a colorful spray of red and blue blaster beams. Bombs dropped from Separatist vessels and exploded throughout the city. Droids and clone troopers dressed in haphazardly thrown-together armor plunged from their ships and invaded the streets until a whirlwind of blaster fire ignited on ground level as well.

The Separatists had to have been waiting. Grievous had been near enough as it was, and as soon as he and Sidious learned of the vision, their plans changed. With clones turning of their own volition, they knew well enough in advance that the Order was expelling all of the clones to be conveniently collected beyond Coruscant's air space. A horrific but brilliantly executed plan.

Obi-Wan spun his fighter, and Gubacher squealed from the back where he flopped around behind his seat.

"I think I am going to be ill," he muttered, and he scrambled in the chair and struggled with the belts. His relentless grip remained on the card, and so he fumbled with a mechno-hand and one free finger on the other.

"Aim for the back," Obi-Wan said.

He dipped and shifted as blaster bolts whizzed past their craft. His instincts kicked in, and he turned the ship without conscious thought, long before he saw anything coming. A few fighters dipped into his path and he shot them out of the air and sent them careening into the city below in blazing balls of fire. Not the best approach with a bustling city below, but the sooner he got to his destination, the more lives saved in the long run.

He pushed every other thought aside. He had to get Gubacher to the HoloNet tower and get that signal sent. Nothing else mattered.

Twist. Turn. He dipped under a chain of several fighters raining blaster fire on him. Metal clanged on metal, and his fighter dipped towards a skyscraper. He pulled up, but the fighter resisted abrupt movements and wobbled in the air.

"B-buzz droids." Gubacher waved his free hand in the air while he kept his other hand, and the card with its precious jamming signal, clasped to his chest.

Obi-Wan dared a glance over his shoulder at the back window and saw the nasty little droids already at work shredding the durasteel off the fighter.

"Oh, for the love of…"

He snapped the fighter left and right and flung several of them aside, but the nasty buggers held fast. A sheet of metal went flying, and the fighter lurched under Obi-Wan's hands.

The wing snapped, and at least ten buzz droids scattered into the wind. They'd apparently gathered an entire swarm of them. Alarms rang in the cockpit and red lights flashed. The entire fighter lurched, and Gubacher wailed in panic. He was starting to remind Obi-Wan of riding with a particular Gungan.

"Hold on," Obi-Wan said, and he jerked the controls to compensate for the lost wing.

The second wing snapped, likely taking most of the droids with it, and the fighter careened towards the street. Obi-Wan let it fall, having already set their course towards a street that would make do for an impromptu runway. They hit hard, and the front of the fighter shattered.

Obi-Wan's head snapped against the back of his seat, but otherwise the safety belts held him steady in place. Stars scattered across his eyes for a moment, and his ears rang. It was the only sound he heard.

_Another happy landing._ The words reverberated through his throbbing head. A twinge of pain jolted through his chest, but he pushed the thoughts aside.

When his senses returned, klaxon bells screamed in his ears, and the near crackle of fire urged him to move. Blood trickled from his nose. He whipped the belts off, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and swung around in the cockpit.

Gubacher lay limp in his seat despite the tight belts. His fingers maintained their steely grip on the card. When Obi-Wan grabbed his shoulder, the doctor stirred and muttered.

"We need to go," Obi-Wan said, and he unlatched the doctor. Tongues of fire lapped at the back of the fighter and encroached on the cockpit. "Hurry!"

Gubacher grumbled, but his tentacles worked to hoist his weight even as his head rolled. Obi-Wan did the same as in the Temple and half threw the Parwan over his shoulder and dove out of the crunched remains of the fighter. He hit the street hard and dropped to a knee. His vision swayed, and he allowed the momentary blur to settle before he attempted to stand.

"Don't let go of that card," Obi-Wan said.

Once he had his feet, he used the Force to sprint and jump through the city, bounding from street to street, building to building, taking the fastest course to the HoloNet tower. The massive structure loomed over the rest of the city, its disc-shaped broadcasting and receiving dishes swallowing a portion of the sky. The din of engines and blaster fire faded into the background as they left the battle behind.

Obi-Wan leaped from a building to the ground-level road leading into the facility, aiming just beyond the security gate. No one manned the security station, it seemed, and most of the outer yard had already been vacated. He set Gubacher on the ground and half dragged the muttering doctor along behind him. A gash spilled blood down Gubacher's face, and he staggered on his tentacles like one who'd had too much to drink. He needed medical treatment—and soon.

Obi-Wan waved the second security gate open with a hand and without resistance.

Dozens of battle droids and ill-equipped clone troopers waited on the other side, blasters aimed straight at him. He dropped Gubacher and grabbed his lightsaber, but a wall of droids and clones jumped off the top of the gate and surrounded them. Others stood along the walls and behind the fences, appearing out of every shadow and crevice the facility could offer.

He must have hit his head hard not to have noticed them.

"Well, well, General Kenobi," said the slick and slimy voice of Grievous. He shoved past the front row of droids and clones, his metal feet clanking along the pavement. The half-droid sputtered and coughed and then folded his hands behind his back, taking a casual posture as a point of intimidation. "How easily it seems you fall into a Sith Lord's traps, or so I'm told of future happenings."

"I don't recall the last trap ending very successfully for you, though," Obi-Wan said. He'd been lured to Utapau, where Grievous died at his hands.

Yet Obi-Wan couldn't help but frown at that. Had that been a trap? He'd won, but while away, Sidious had managed to isolate and at last lay claim to Anakin. Obi-Wan's death was intended but never the main purpose of Sidious' plans; Anakin was the goal.

The knot in Obi-Wan's stomach twisted, tighter and tighter. The future played before his eyes, and all he could see was a man wearing a black mask who brought great suffering upon the galaxy.

"Ah, now you understand." Grievous chuckled and then sputtered wet noises. "Surrender your weapon, Jedi scum."

Obi-Wan scanned the hard faces of the clones and the dozens of droids surrounding them, covering the walls and every method of escape. Cautiously, Obi-Wan raised his hands in surrender, his lightsaber held only by his thumb. Wisely, Gubacher held up his hands, too.


	7. A Decision Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudos-ing! Please enjoy~

Bodies littered the floor of the Temple corridors. At least, that was what Anakin saw as Master Ti led him to the High Council Chamber. She didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, and she trampled the bodies underfoot. Bodies of Knights, Padawans, and even younglings. Lights flashed before his eyes—the blink of a lightsaber as it cut through its victim. That one on the floor, then the next, he swept through them all, and they couldn't stand against him. He killed them, one after another.

Anakin scratched at his arms and felt the bruises under his sleeves. They'd secured him in the Halls of Healing and healed some but not all of his wounds. He could walk, and they'd bothered to repair his mechno-arm, though it had a moment of delay in response time. His head throbbed.

What bothered him the most was his scratchy, burning skin. Flames devoured him in his mind, searing through his memory and through his flesh. His hand went to his head—he still had hair. He clawed at his neck and the flesh that should have peeled away but didn't.

For a moment, as he brought the walls down on himself and he'd heard his Master's voice, he thought perhaps, just maybe, he wasn't a monster and it was all a bad dream. But the way Obi-Wan looked at him, as though Anakin wasn't entirely human, as though he was something to be feared—Anakin hadn't and would never belong. But he could disappear. He ought to disappear.

Master Ti pressed the doors open to the High Council Chamber and waved him inside. Politely, she stepped back.

Anakin slipped inside. A watercolor sky painted the chamber in shades of purples, oranges, and pinks. Blaster and cannon fire, along with brilliant explosions, set the world on fire.

Alone, Master Yoda and Master Windu sat in their seats with a backdrop of war.

Another image leaped before Anakin's eyes, and he severed Master Windu's hand before Sidious killed him. Anakin had done it, had caused it. Anakin had set into motion the deaths of so many innocents, so many people. He had destroyed everything they had worked to accomplish. His head hung as he stepped to the center of the circular room, and he stared at the floor before the two Masters' feet.

"Darth Sidious has executed Order 66," Master Windu said with a calmness that cut Anakin far worse than a scolding. Chiding meant hope for change, a desire to guide and correct. Master Windu's impassiveness meant he'd already given up on Anakin. Anakin wasn't even worth admonishing. "We did all that we could, but the clones and legions of droids close in on the Temple even as we speak. We could not change the future."

Tears streamed down Anakin's face. They sliced down his burning cheeks like slivers of ice. He swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry," he could barely utter.

It meant nothing. It never would. Useless, empty words.

Visions flashed through his head of his future self, his true self. In his mind, he marched on the Temple with the 501st and slaughtered the Jedi. In his mind, he destroyed the peacekeepers and ushered in two decades of terror, slavery, and death. In his mind, he played the perfect weapon for Sidious to wield in order to crush the Jedi and the Republic.

After all, Anakin had always played the role of perfect slave.

"Sidious has come," Master Windu said, his tone grave. "As he carries out the same purpose, the same plans as before, likely he will target you. He will seek for you to join him."

"I won't," Anakin said, and tears continued to spill down his cheeks as he remembered bending a knee to Sidious, to the darkness. And for what? What had he gained? What had he accomplished? In Sidious' plans, the only winner was Sidious, and the entire galaxy lost.

Anakin had crushed the entire galaxy for a man who saw Anakin as nothing more than a weapon to wield in his hand. But Anakin was a weapon, that was all he ever was, even to the Force that brought him into existence. Just a tool.

"We are without a doubt now that you are the Chosen One," Master Windu continued, his tone painfully steady. He hesitated, and Anakin's eyes flicked up for a moment. The Jedi Master frowned deeply, lips parted. "We would ask you to destroy Sidious in the hopes of at least preserving the Republic by denying the Empire their emperor."

Anakin's eyes dropped again, and he stared at the leaf pattern directly under his bare feet.

"Set a trap for Darth Sidious, we have," Master Yoda finally spoke up, equally as calm, equally without judgment. Anakin was beyond their concern. "On the edge of the capital, a reactor much like that in which Sidious will die, there exists. Lure Sidious into the reactor, you must. Controlled by the Jedi, the doors are. Trap him inside, we will, and detonate the reactor. A containment field outside, shield the city, it will."

"You want me to die?" Anakin looked up, looked them both in the eyes. Master Yoda met and held his gaze, unwavering, but Master Windu bowed his head and folded his hands between his knees, a heavy weight on his shoulders.

"You will inform us when to detonate the reactor once you know Sidious is securely inside," Master Windu said, but nothing in his voice sounded hopeful. Then again, it never did. "After emergency lockdown procedures are initiated, the doors will close from the top down to allow time for escape. Sidious will not be aware of these measures, so use them to your advantage and escape if the opportunity presents itself."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Prioritize the needs of many, we must," Master Yoda said, and at last he lowered his head, and his heavy eyelids sagged.

"The question is," Master Windu began, carefully, and his face softened. It was the first and only time Anakin had ever seen such an expression on the typically stoic Master's face. "How do you want to be remembered?" Master Windu looked up and met Anakin's eyes, and for some reason, Anakin couldn't look away. "You can be remembered as Darth Vader. As the one who ruled by hatred and fear. Even if you never wear that mask in this lifetime, you bear it just the same." A pause for emphasis, and Master Windu sat back in his chair. "Or you can be remembered as a hero who defeated the Sith Lord and saved the Republic. So that you might be remembered with an ounce of kindness… and not hate."

As he spoke the words, the patter of light footsteps made Anakin turn. A youngling plodded into the room with Anakin's robes neatly folded, his lightsaber set on top of them. The youngling jumped when Anakin looked at him. The boy hastily set the garments on the floor and fled the room, vanishing beyond the door left ajar by Master Ti. The youngling's footsteps echoed and faded.

Anakin had killed him, too. He didn't remember it, not clearly. But he knew, and the youngling knew. Anakin murdered them all.

He clawed at his burning skin, at his chest, at his sides. Heat welled inside of him as the flames of Mustafar consumed him in his mind. Yet chills swept through him just the same, and he shivered in the center of that vast chamber that loomed and threatened to swallow him up. Outside, fighters and gunships exploded like dismal fireworks in the darkening skies.

Anakin blinked at the endless sky of death and then at his lightsaber set upon his folded Jedi robes. They were not his, not really. Only borrowed for a time, because he did not belong with them. He had been a tool, a weapon, and he would serve a purpose. In going through with their plan, he could destroy Sidious and prevent two decades of endless suffering—and then Anakin Skywalker would disappear, and Darth Vader along with him.

A happy ending.

"I will do as you ask, on two conditions," he said, his voice trembling from the pain of imaginary fires and from emotion that addled his mind. A failure of a Jedi for sure, because he had no control of either. Masters Yoda and Windu exchanged glances, and then Master Windu waved a hand for him to continue. Anakin had cut off that hand, and so his eyes dropped immediately to the Jedi Master's boots instead. "Padmé, Luke, and Leia… Please protect them. Sidious knows of them, and he will… His followers might…"

"We have already ensured their protection," Master Windu said. "And?"

Anakin stared at the floor, at the leaves that swirled together through his tears. An explosion beyond the transparisteel scattered vibrant orange colors across the floor like a kaleidoscope.

"You mustn't blame Obi-Wan," Anakin said, barely audible even to himself. His voice cracked, parched and dry from the ever-consuming flames that plagued him. More tears fell. His lips had crusted, his skin burned, and his mouth was dry, and yet he had endless reserves of tears. His hand went to his head—he still had hair. He clasped a handful of it in a tight fist. "He didn't make any mistakes. He was good. He tried and did his best. I was the mistake. I was dangerous." Finally he looked up, but Master Yoda and Master Windu blurred against the skyline on fire. "Obi-Wan didn't pick me. I was the mistake he got stuck with because of a dying wish. Please… don't blame him."

"Be blamed for the mistakes of their students, a Master shall not," Master Yoda said, and a hint of softness touched his voice. Softness created by sorrow created by experience. "Rise or fall by our own choices, we shall."

"Thank you." Anakin dipped his head.

Slowly, he gathered his things off the floor and held the bundle to his chest. The tiles stabbed at his bare feet with ice-cold daggers, and he shivered against a frigid cold that ran through his veins despite his melting skin. He half turned back towards the Jedi Masters, and neither said a thing. They only watched him off to his death. After over a decade, they would finally be rid of him, rid of the blight of the Chosen One so wrapped in fear, anger, hate, and death.

Finally.

"I'm sorry," Anakin said without an ounce of strength. Empty words, but he meant them. He meant them about the loss of Master Windu's hand, the death of the Jedi, the destruction of the Order and the Republic, the endless despair, and the fear and the hatred—the hatred that led to never-ending suffering. "I am so sorry."

Mere words that, in the end, changed nothing.

Flames danced in the sky. Blasters flashed in an endless sea of smoke and embers. Everywhere Anakin went, everything he touched, everything he did, succeeded and failed just the same. A powerful but hopeless contradiction. An absolute, complete, and utter mistake.

Anakin turned away and went to the door. That night, three people would die. He would make sure of it. Darth Sidious, Darth Vader, and Anakin Skywalker.

"Young Skywalker," Master Yoda said, and Anakin paused and glanced back. The Grandmaster bowed his head. "May the Force be with you."

Anakin stared at him, stared through him. And a strange sense of certainty settled over him, the first he'd felt since the vision passed.

"It isn't."

And with that, Anakin departed from the chamber.


	8. Orange, White, and Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading, commenting, and kudos-ing. Seriously, your time and energy spent with this story is very much appreciated. I appreciate each and every one of you so much! Please continue to enjoy~~

General Grievous marched outside the ring of clones and droids that surrounded Obi-Wan and Gubacher.

Obi-Wan kept his hands up but scanned the outer gate behind them and the walls ahead of them for potential escape routes. The HoloNet Station glowed with bright white lights from every angle, highlighting everything and giving little hope of concealment. Clones clustered on every wall with blasters aimed and ready. Any attempt at escape would mean instant death.

Not that Obi-Wan thought Grievous would allow anything else, especially knowing that Obi-Wan would defeat him. Grievous was arrogant but not stupid.

"Take their weapons," Grievous said with the wave of a hand. He didn't even bother to look back, victory certain. Thus his arrogance showed.

Two clones marched forward, blasters raised at Obi-Wan and Gubacher. Obi-Wan ignored them and stared at Grievous' back and contemplated striking him from behind, throwing his lightsaber and taking him out while going down in a rain of blaster fire. He doubted he had the time for it. He could dive forward and try to get Grievous to the ground. Hopefully his own foolish droids would shoot him in an attempt to kill Obi-Wan. Anything to make Obi-Wan's careless mistake meaningful. His mind was not where it should have been.

"Oh, I say! Be careful with that!" Gubacher whined as the clone fetched the card from his hand.

Obi-Wan glanced over and then did a double take at the clone. The closely shaved blond head, the patterned armor—he was wearing his standard-issue armor and not basic tunic or trousers—Commander Rex collected the card from Gubacher. And as Rex turned away, the corner of his lip quirked upwards ever so slightly, and then he retreated to the circle.

Another clone in full, standard-issue armor took Obi-Wan's lightsaber. Obi-Wan stared as the man left, and he choked back a sliver of hope as the clone not only pushed past the circle but kept walking. And then he quietly set the lightsaber on the ground and strolled away.

Obi-Wan's eyes darted around the circle. Among the droids and clones in tunics and trousers were clones wearing full armor, minus the helmets, and the clones donning armor stood on the outer edge of the circle. Their blasters weren't point inwards, not all the way. They were pointed at the other clones and droids.

Atop the walls, the clones as one replaced their helmets on their heads—helmets that had the striking orange markings of a Togruta.

"General Kenobi, this time I will live to see you suffer," Grievous said, and he chuckled before coughing and sputtering. He spun, and his cloak billowed out around him. He wore his usual lightsabers but left them untouched, opting instead to wave a hand in the air. "Kill them."

All of the droids and clones moved at once.

At the same instant, Obi-Wan shoved Gubacher down and ripped his lightsaber off the ground and to himself using the Force. The clones on the outskirts of the circle got the jump on the rest and shot down a line of droids and unfriendly clones, allowing Obi-Wan enough time to ignite his lightsaber and fend off blaster fire. He snapped the glowing blade back and forth and flipped the searing beams back on the droids.

"What treachery is—" Grievous roared at the turn of events and drew his lightsabers, all four of them, and stormed into the circle. The ring broke apart as clones and droids turned on each other, leaving Grievous to Obi-Wan. "Jedi scum!!"

Obi-Wan half hauled Gubacher up and half Force flung him out of the ring. The doctor wailed as he flew over the heads of clones and droids, his tentacles flapping like limp ribbons in the wind. Obi-Wan let him fall out of sight and turned in time to deflect one of Grievous' lightsabers from severing his head. Grievous slashed with one, then another, then another, and forced Obi-Wan to backpedal to free his own lightsaber between blows.

Weary of defending, Obi-Wan gave Grievous a gentle Force _nudge_ backwards several feet and reverse lunged to place distance between them. Obi-Wan spun his lightsaber around his wrist, scattering a stray blaster bolt that threatened to tag him in the arm, and then caught his weapon in time to receive another swing from Grievous. Only this time, he put enough force in his swing to push Grievous off balance and prevent a second swing.

"You cannot win. We have this city," Grievous said with a wet hiss to his words. He leaned close, his yellow eyes ablaze with something distinctly pleasurable despite the unfortunate change of circumstances. In a near leisure drawl, he added, "We have… Skywalker."

Obi-Wan felt a ripple of concern, but it came and went in a blink, banished into the Force so that it could not impede him.

"You will have to do a bit better than that, Grievous."

Grievous puffed a sound akin to a cough and a laugh, and then he swung his second blade around. Obi-Wan sidestepped and deflected both, and then he conveniently snagged a nearby droid head, decapitated by some grizzly method employed by the clones, and flung it at Grievous' head. Grievous batted it out of the air, but Obi-Wan used the momentary distraction to step back and assess the situation.

His head cleared. All around him, clones and droids fell. Clones engaged droids on the walls on either side of the security yard, and sometimes one or the other toppled off their stations and plummeted to the ground. The clones would continue to fight and be needlessly slaughtered until that card was in place. Gubacher lurked on the fringes of the battlefield, barely crawling away, playing dead to keep from being noticed. They had to get to the tower and quickly. The sooner the clones were freed, the better.

"Get the Jedi!" Grievous shouted. "Forget the clones, you imbeciles! The Jedi!"

"Roger, roger!" answered a chorus of droids. It was hard not to notice the discouragement in their tones. Poor things.

Several of the droids turned their blasters into the circle. A wave of destroyers rolled through the outer gates. Over the distant cityscape, an army of vessels drew near, the HoloNet Station their obvious target.

Grievous dove into the midst of his legion's blaster fire and whirled his four blades about him in a vibrant, high-speed display. Obi-Wan jumped back into a gap made by several friendly clones and shoved two droids into Grievous' whirring weaponry. Grievous cut them down without mercy and dove through the ring after Obi-Wan. One of Grievous' lower arms shattered in a flash of whitish-blue, and the metal appendage clattered to the ground. He sidestepped the second flash of a lightsaber and dove aside behind a line of droids.

Obi-Wan stared at the Torguta now standing between him and Grievous.

"Ahsoka!"

Ahsoka whirled her lightsabers in her hands, flipping them in a showy display—she learned that from Anakin—and glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Rex is waiting at the tower. Go! I can manage this bucket of bolts." When Obi-Wan frowned and tried to make sense of how she was there, how all of her unit had returned unscathed, she yelled, "You're trying to help the clones, right? Hurry!"

Duty called. Obi-Wan offered a curt nod and then spun towards Gubacher. He slashed through a colorful rain of blaster fire, picking off whatever droids he could in the process, and hauled the doctor to his tentacles and dragged him towards the tower. Grievous threw himself at Ahsoka, but she spun and deflected his three remaining lightsabers in a flashing, mesmerizing dance.

She would have made a fine Jedi Knight.

"The card—the card!" Gubacher muttered, his voice laden with dismay.

"It's in good hands," Obi-Wan said, but he didn't bother to explain further.

A second wave of unfriendly clones came through the outer gate and swarmed the yard. Their allies were heavily outnumbered. They had to turn the battle quick or it would be lost. Obi-Wan flung Gubacher over his left shoulder and reverse lunged to the tower, all the while deflecting blaster bolts and impetuous droids with his lightsaber in his right hand. As soon as he had a moment of breathing room, he swung around and raced to the tower.

The lock mechanism on the far right of the door sizzled and smoked: a blaster's handiwork, no doubt. Without slowing, Obi-Wan waved his hand and swept the door open.

Inside, computers and monitors sprawled along every wall and in every crevice, and lights flashed and glared from all the devices. Sidious' face and message played on an endless loop on every monitor, great and small, his grin menacing but his voice muted. Thankfully.

The fear in the Force was palpable. Civilians huddled under their desks and peeked out at him from behind their chairs. He set Gubacher down, and the doctor brushed himself off as Obi-Wan turned off his lightsaber.

"We mean you no harm," he said, and then in a stern warning added, "Find better places to hide. The enemy is just outside."

Obi-Wan ran to the center of the massive central room where Rex waited at a turbolift. The tower went up in a never-ending tunnel of gray and flashing lights. Most of the main floors were open to the turbolift, though all of the doors on the central floor made Obi-Wan assume various other rooms branched off the main one.

"The central computer is up on top, near the transmission towers," Rex explained, holding the lift with his blaster. He handed the card to Gubacher, who took it with a joyous cry of relief.

"I don't know how you did this, Rex, but you and yours may have saved us all." Obi-Wan led the way onto the lift, let Rex type in their destination to the highest floor, and swept a hand through his hair as he finally caught a breath. "Let's hope this works."

"It will work," Gubacher said. He clutched the card possessively to his chest, puffing. He waved his mechno-fingers ambiguously in the air and added, "It may be temporary, but it will stop all this."

"The chips weren't removed?" Rex asked. Not condemning.

"We started the process on some, but there were just too many. We tried to evacuate everyone to Kamino to speed the process, but we ran out of time."

Obi-Wan stepped ahead as the turbolift halted and the door slid open. A single, straight platform lay ahead of them with one enormous computer and screen front and center. Nothing screamed danger, so Obi-Wan led the way out onto the bridge, his lightsaber gripped and ready in hand. Gubacher's tentacles slapped at the metal walkway as he scuttled along behind him. Rex took the rear, blaster aimed, and he scanned every direction. The top level was vacant save Sidious' enormous face plastered on one of the screens. The enlarged size did not do him any favors.

"Commander Tano saw the vision. In the future, she removed my chip, so she was aware enough to help everyone remove theirs," Rex explained. "We barely made it back in time."

"We appreciate your prompt return." Obi-Wan flagged Gubacher down, and the doctor scurried to the computer and plucked at the controls. He slipped the card into a slot and hacked away. The screens flickered, and ripples spread through Sidious' face. Obi-Wan passed a sideways glance at Rex. "How much do you all know?"

Rex met and held his gaze for a moment before returning to his diligent scan of the perimeter. Ever the soldier.

"Everything, sir."

Obi-Wan nodded but left it at that. He sensed no hostility from Rex, no sense of betrayal, and perhaps _everything_ was not actually everything. Had Ahsoka recognized Darth Vader as Anakin? Did she and the clones know the devastation he wrought? He had no way of knowing for certain, and it mattered little given the current circumstances.

Emotions could not cloud their judgment. Lives depended on clear thinking and concise actions. Yet something whittled away at the back of his mind, something that he couldn't release to the Force. It set him ill-at-ease, twisted his stomach in knots, and filled him with concern. An incessant nagging—a wretched, terrible feeling.

_We have… Skywalker._

A blaster beam shattered a section of the monitor over their heads and rained glittering shards down on them. Gubacher hit the floor in fear, but Rex whipped around and returned fire. Grievous and a host of droids and clones marched through the doors and blew apart the nearest computers. The tower workers scattered and screamed, disappearing through back doors.

"Hurry! We aren't getting out of here unless we can free the clones," Obi-Wan said, and he dragged Gubacher up by the back of his tunic and urged him towards the computer.

"I just need a little more time," the doctor muttered under his breath but hastily went back to work.

"Rex." Obi-Wan dipped his head at the doctor, and Rex answered with a nod.

Knowing Gubacher would be safe in Rex's hands, and no one cared more for the freedom of the clones than Rex, Obi-Wan climbed on the railing along the edges of the bridge and braced himself in a crouch. Grievous vaulted himself onto the outer frame of the turbolift and started climbing. The lightsabers still ignited in his hands burned holes through the metal frames. A cable snapped under his blade somewhere inside the lift's shell. It ricocheted and echoed within the metal casing.

Droids and clones pointed blasters at Obi-Wan on the bridge and fired. He lunged off the railing to draw the fire to himself and let his grappling hook fly. It locked around a frame under a lower level's bridge and let Obi-Wan spin at rapid speed around the turbolift tube. Grievous, hands occupied, swung one lightsaber at him, but Obi-Wan deflected with his own blade and kicked Grievous in the face, sending the half droid sprawling several floors below.

Obi-Wan gave himself some slack in the cable and spun across a lower level bridge. Stabbing his lightsaber through it, he cut it down and toppled it over the heads of a cluster of droids below. Then he dropped and rode the bridge to the floor.

"Destroy that computer!" Grievous flung out a hand and pointed at the top level with his lightsaber.

Droids and clones marched on the central pillar and climbed by using the scaffolding and frames or by using grappling hooks. The turbolift remained at the top and didn't descend. Droids started climbing in the shaft as well, and Obi-Wan had a strong mental image of the turbolift falling and crushing them all. He circled the central turbolift, spinning his lightsaber, and set his sights on Grievous. Blaster bolts smattered the floor around them as Rex fired on incoming foes.

Ahsoka and a handful of friendly clones rushed the doors as dozens of droids, destroyers, and clones smashed through the few windows of the tower. Explosions ripped apart the walls and covered the room in a cloud of smoke, embers, and sparks. Obi-Wan slammed into Grievous, their blades locking. Ahsoka took that as her cue and, with her small unit of clones, attacked the army climbing the tower.

"You are too late," Grievous said, and he bore so much confidence that it set Obi-Wan on edge.

"Not yet," he replied, and he shoved Grievous back, thrust three times, and then blocked another swing that locked them together.

A wet, gurgling chuckle erupted form Grievous' throat. And the unease in Obi-Wan grew into a twisted knot. Something wasn't right at all.

"Go! Go!" screamed Gubacher from above.

All of the screens flickered in a rainbow of colors, and then darkness swallowed Sidious' face and turned the monitors black. Grievous threw his entire weight into Obi-Wan, knocking him off balance, and then vanished into a swarm of droids. Obi-Wan snapped his lightsaber to deflect blaster fire back on the droids. Droids shattered and metal parts sprayed everywhere.

All of the clones paused, and those who had been fighting under Order 66 clasped their heads. A light came on in their eyes that hadn't been there moments before, as if coming out of some sort of dazed trance. And then their blasters turned and opened fire on the droids.

It had been a success, the clones spared for a time, and yet Obi-Wan couldn't breathe. He had the terrible sensation of having lost the war. Images reverberated through his head of Anakin bending a knee to Sidious, of the Jedi decimated on the floor of the Temple, of Sidious taking over as emperor of the Galactic Empire. He felt in that moment same as his future self felt for the next 20 years: that he had failed and there was no hope.

Grievous' laugh echoed in his mind. He knew something—it had been a trap, and they'd fallen for it, somehow.

Obi-Wan dove through the droids and the clones blasting at each other and rushed outside. A fleet of fighters and gunships waged battle in the sky, clones versus droids. Ships exploded in dazzling clouds of fire. An entire army of droids, hundreds of them, marched towards the HoloNet tower and decimated the outer wall. They blasted straight through it and stormed over its ruins.

A line of clones and Jedi stood between Obi-Wan and the oncoming droid army. Grievous was gone.

"We must hold this tower at any cost," Master Tiin shouted at the line. "Nothing less than your freedom is on the line, men. Do not let them take it!"

Obi-Wan stepped forward and joined his Jedi comrades in deflecting the onslaught of blaster fire. The clones answered with their own torrent of fire. Most weren't wearing armor, leaving them particularly vulnerable. Nevertheless, they held their ground even as their fellow clones dropped one-by-one beside them.

"We just need to hold on a while longer," Master Ti said to seemingly no one in particular. "This ends here and now."

The knot in Obi-Wan's stomach tightened. Several of the Jedi—no, only the members of the High Council—glanced west, over and over again. Obi-Wan did, too. The hazy illumination over an endless sprawling city looked back.

He returned his attention to the battle, to defending the tower against the enemy. He and his fellow Masters dove through the first line and punched the droids to the ground, and then they fell back and allowed a second wave of blaster fire to pass over their heads. A few clones launched explosives into the sea of droids, and brilliant orange explosions painted the bleach-white yard in gold.

Again, the High Council members looked west in expectation. Waiting for something. Had they formulated another plan? Was help on the way? Obi-Wan followed their gaze again and saw nothing, only the same city glow.

He saw nothing, but he felt it. When he allowed his mind to separate from the battle and from the present, an image jumped to the forefront of his thoughts: Anakin kneeling before Sidious.

He couldn't see what the other Masters searched for, but he felt it. Anakin was out there, in the distance, and the heavy shroud of the dark side hemmed him in from all directions and nearly suffocated his presence from existence.

Obi-Wan's lightsaber went slack, and he hastily caught it up before it could fall off his fingertips.

"Master Kenobi!" someone shouted at him.

"General!"

"Master!" Ahsoka's voice shook him out of a momentary daze.

Obi-Wan glanced at her, at Rex and several of his troopers rushing from the tower to join the fight. They all stared at him and whatever strange sort of bewildered expression he must have been making. He swallowed the contents of his stomach several times as that dark, corrosive feeling ate away at him.

Master Ti and Master Fisto both glanced back at him as if he were out of his mind, but as soon as they really looked at him, their faces fell. For a brief moment, the entire battlefield seemed to stand still, and everything went quiet.

"What have you done?" Obi-Wan asked, and his eyes leaped from one High Council member to the next. A few exchanged glances. They knew something he didn't. The pit of unease grew, and no matter how much Obi-Wan demanded it leave him, it remained. His voice rose. "What have you done?"

Master Ti met his eyes, and a wash of grief swept over her face. Not guilt, only momentary sorrow, and it was fleeting.

"It will all be over soon."

The incessant knot twisted relentlessly in Obi-Wan's belly. He took several steps in no particular direction. Something terrible had been done. Obi-Wan felt he was merely a piece on the board of a game other people played. Grievous, Sidious, even the Masters—he had no idea what was happening on any side, not even his own.

And the dark side smothered Anakin.

_Go_. A voice, a presence spoke in his mind. He felt the pull of the Force as though he were in deep meditation. A warm, familiar voice reverberated through his head, though it sounded muffled, as though under water. _Go quickly!_

Obi-Wan turned and ran west. Towards Anakin. Ahsoka called after him, but he didn't catch her words.

"It is already too late," Master Tiin shouted.

Not if Obi-Wan could help it.


	9. The Jedi Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to read this story, and for your comments (ALL OF THEM), the kudos-ing, and the bookmarks. It truly is an honor to have you here with me on this ride, and I hope this story is pleasant the whole way through. Thank you for your time!!!

A whirlwind of images flashed through Anakin's mind like a Holo broadcast gone awry and he lacked the controls to turn it off. He watched them behind his eyes as he always did. His failures. His poor choices. His miserable existence. He watched his entire life play out three and a half times before he felt the quiver in the Force, and by the time he watched himself die, he could sense the dark side coiling around him.

"They abandoned you to die with me," arose the tenderly warm voice of the Chancellor—of Darth Sidious, "didn't they, son?"

Anakin straightened but kept his back turned to Sidious. He could not bear to see his face in the glaring white lights surrounding them on all sides, could not stand to see what he imagined to be the pale face of death that the Sith Lord wore in his future memories.

Not even a kilometer from them, the main reactor that powered nearly all of Coruscant's essential functions stood stark white against a grim and hazy sky. The facility had several reactors housed in individual towers, with an enormous compound between them. It was the strongest reactor, the most likely to successfully obliterate them from existence.

"I am so sorry, my boy." Sidious approached. His slow, unthreatening steps tapped against the ferrocrete yard. His cloak rustled softly and produced the sound of a gentle breeze through leaves. "I told you, didn't I? They don't trust you. They don't care for you. When given the opportunity, they will discard you. But even though you have set a trap for me, still I have come for you. I will never abandon you."

So he knew it was a trap. Normally, it might put Anakin on guard, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He sucked in a breath.

"I seem to recall you abandoning me for my own son." He turned one foot so that he could at least see Sidious' shifting form out of the corner of his eye. The Sith Lord had wound himself in a black cloak, and shadows encased him in darkness, the lights at his back.

"You and I both know that you had similar thoughts about me at that time," Sidious said without condemnation. His voice remained as gentle and fatherly as ever. "We were in a poor place, you and I. But it doesn't have to be that way this time." He extended a hand to Anakin, though the lights bleached the skin. "Remember, Anakin. When even your Master left you to burn and to perish on Mustafar, I came for you. I rescued you. Even in that broken body that lacked control of the Force, lacked your former agility and prowess, I did not leave you. And I never will."

Anakin stared through him. Thousands of other images played before his eyes and distracted him from the man standing directly in front of him.

"You came for me because you had no other options at the time." His voice sounded dead even to his own ears.

"From a certain point of view," Sidious said, and the words prickled in Anakin's memory. "You see yourself as expendable and so believe others view you the same way. The Jedi taught you that." He huffed and pulled back his shoulders as though indignant, but somehow Anakin couldn't believe the gesture. "Tell my, my boy. How many times have the Jedi raced to recover one of their own, like Kenobi, at great cost to the Order. And yet, when you were the one in need… where were they?"

Anakin could hear the smile on Sidious' lips. And his chest ached because the words were true.

"That's right." Sidious cooed, as though talking to a cute pet right before smothering it to put it out of its misery. "They sent your Master to kill you, and he left you burning in lava."

"I deserved what happened to me, and much, much more." Anakin stared at his black boots, at the scuffed ferrocrete under his feet. And above it all, he saw black sand on fire, his flesh on fire. He managed to lift his face and found Sidious again. By second nature, he slid his lightsaber from his belt and let it ignite. "Just as you deserve what happened to you."

"My boy, you are not well," Sidious said, again gentle, fatherly. His hands remained where Anakin could see them, his fingers entwined loosely in front of him. "You don't appear to have slept in a long while. Now is not the time to make rash decisions."

"We did not create peace," Anakin murmured.

"We can do things differently."

"We did not free slaves." Anakin took a step towards him.

"We have a second chance, the ability to create a new future." Sidious held his ground and kept his hands visible.

"Power is the only thing we gained, and we didn't use it for anything."

"Everything can change," Sidious assured him, with so much conviction in his voice that for a fraction of an instant, Anakin wanted to believe him.

Because Anakin had nothing else to believe in. The visions came to a jarring halt, but not on any future event. No, he saw the past. Saw his mother at the table as they shared a meal with their strange new companions: a queen, a Jedi, and a Gungan. Anakin had wanted to help—he'd always only wanted to help, because that's what his mother had taught him. And somewhere along the way, he had lost it, had lost her, had lost himself.

"We did nothing," he said, and he found Sidious' eyes under the shadows of the hood. "And my mother would hate me."

"You are tired, son. Don't do anything rash." Sidious' hands slid into the folds of his cloak.

"I am not your son."

Anakin moved without thinking, let some mechanical, mindless instinct take hold. He slammed into Sidious at full speed, and the Sith Lord narrowly drew and ignited a red lightsaber to fend off his attack. Anakin unleashed a flurry of swings, and Sidious deflected each with perfect precision, though Anakin managed to march him backwards towards the reactor tower. Sidious Force pushed him with the flick of his hand, barely setting Anakin off balance, but gave himself enough time to flip out of reach, closer yet to the reactor.

"The future always has a way of correcting itself," Sidious said with the slight shake of his head. "You cannot escape from your destiny, Anakin. You will wear that mask."

Anakin strode across the yard and stared at Sidious. He didn't care enough about Sidious to hate him. Anakin had been the pawn, the failure. His hatred he reserved for himself. But Sidious was a danger to others: to his family, to the Jedi, to the clones, to the weak who couldn't fight for themselves. Anakin had willingly tread upon and destroyed those same people, and so he owed it to them to set things right.

"You cannot escape who you are, Anakin."

Anakin lunged and pushed with the Force, flinging Sidious towards one of the many tower doors on the ground level. Then he swung with the full force of his weight and speed, twisting his body to add to the blow. Sidious deflected, of course, but Anakin's strike threw him off balance. Anakin gave another push with the Force, but Sidious held out his own free hand and returned the gesture. Anakin slid back several centimeters, and it was all he allowed.

Sidious jumped back again and swept his free hand through the air. Metal tore from metal in a horrible tangle of piercing screams, and part of the defensive gate around the perimeter of the reactor facility flew at them—at Anakin, because Sidious retreated. Anakin didn't have to think to react. He flicked his wrist, and the ferrocrete yard shattered, and a chunk the size of a speeder smashed the oncoming metal out of the air. They fell harmlessly aside together and burst into a pile of debris.

Sidious continued his retreat, and Anakin took a wide route to herd him towards the reactor tower.

"I feel your anger," Sidious said, his words an echo from the future. "It gives you power. Use it, Anakin! Use it to change the galaxy for the better!"

"Anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering," Anakin replied. He waved his hand, and the ferrocrete ripped apart in front of him. He hurled chunks of it at Sidious, forcing his once future master towards the tower. He spoke the familiar platitude that he had been too foolish to understand all his life. "Hate cannot make anything better."

The ground severed ahead of him, and he pulled the entire yard into the air and rained it down on Sidious' head. The Sith Lord cast many of the larger chunks aside but eventually fled into the tower. The ferrocrete slammed against the tower walls and crumbled to dust against the solid exterior. Anakin stormed through the door after Sidious.

He wouldn't risk locking down the facility without ensuring Sidious had no means to escape. He had to be certain Sidious died.

He stepped on one of many solid metal bridges that crisscrossed over the gurgling core of light energy below. The bridge snapped underneath him, and the end ahead of him dropped and took him with it. Anakin grabbed at the railing and Force jumped to the bridge directly below. Sidious waited with a sympathetic smile on his face, as if he were watching a child struggle with something difficult. Like a father looking after his son.

Anakin didn't care. He snapped both ends of their current bridge and dropped him and Sidious towards the roar of energy below. Sidious jumped, so Anakin jumped. They landed on one of the lower level bridges beneath the ground level. None of the nearby doors would lead outside.

"I have only tried to help you, Anakin, tried to help you be better," Sidious said, and he lowered his lightsaber in a declaration of peace. "The Jedi insisted on holding you back, but I have wanted you to thrive to your full potential. Surely you see that."

Anakin marched across the bridge and swung at him again, relentlessly, violently, and forced Sidious to engage him. Anakin tore that bridge from its foundations as well, and Sidious jumped to yet another lower level. Grabbing the railing as the bridge dangled, still stuck in the wall by one massive bolt, Anakin glared down at him and felt nothing. No hatred, no sorrow. Absolutely nothing.

He brought his comlink to his lips so the words rang loud and clear.

"We're inside. Do it."

At his command, red lights flashed in warning and klaxons screamed at them, inside and out, drowning out all other sounds. An automated voice boomed at them, _Emergency protocol activated. Engaging meltdown systems. Evacuate immediately._ Over and over again. Starting from the top of the tower, doors slammed shut to contain the impending destruction.

Immediately—the Jedi didn't waste time.

"Don't you see? Everyone has abandoned you!" Sidious stomped a foot to the floor and spoke with emotion, with conviction. "Why are you fighting for them when I am the one who has come for you to give you a place to belong?"

Flickers of images smashed through Anakin's head. He winced against them, against the violence he caused in the future, against the flames that burned his skin. Sweat soaked his robes, and from out of habit, he let go of the bridge to scratch at his searing flesh. He staggered down the bridge and then leaped to Sidious' level, lightsaber swinging. Swing, deflect, parry, thrust, retreat, lunge. Anakin forced Sidious back towards the wall. They had nowhere to fall now, it was up or die.

"Anakin!" a voice screamed from above.

Anakin froze until he saw the red flash out of the corner of his eye. By instinct alone he reverse lunged and avoided losing his flesh hand to Sidious' swing. Sidious clipped the railing instead. Both he and Anakin looked up.

Obi-Wan stood on one of the ground-level bridges, hands on the railing. Sweat flattened his hair to his red face, and he wore grief and horror like a mask. Anakin recognized it as the same face he wore when he left him to die on Mustafar. When he walked away.

_I loved you._ But no longer.

"It seems your Master came to put an end to us," Sidious said, suddenly quiet. Anakin glared at him. The Sith Lord smiled in his twisted, demented sort of way, feral and inhuman. "You can save him… or we can all burn together."

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan jumped from his ground-level bridge and landed on another bridge still high above them.

Metal doors slammed shut throughout the tower, and the reactor's glow brightened beneath their feet. Tongues of glowing energy leaped towards them.

"What will you do, my boy?" Sidious smiled like a father, and then he waved a hand and tore the bridge out from beneath Obi-Wan's feet.

Obi-Wan jumped to a different bridge, but Sidious shot a torrent of Force lightning at him and almost caught him in the air. Obi-Wan spiraled and ignited his lightsaber to stop the attack. Anakin lunged at Sidious and grappled at his arms. They twisted around each other on the bridge, and Anakin recognized the sensation of having done this before—only with Obi-Wan, over lava, in another life he refused to live.

Anakin and Sidious pushed each other away at the same time. Anakin used the Force to rip one of the bolts out of the wall that held their bridge in place. The bridge sank and twisted, but the frame remained steady. He and Sidious staggered.

Over the screaming alarms and slamming doors, Anakin heard Obi-Wan call his name. Obi-Wan jumped down to another bridge, descending upon them.

"Save the Master who abandoned you?" Sidious asked, slowly, relishing every moment as the words dripped out of his gnarled and twisted grin. "Or kill me, the one who cared for you all these years?"

Anger stirred inside Anakin, the very thing that made the Jedi distrust him. He didn't feed it, but he didn't ignore it, either. It simply existed, and he let it. He glanced at Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye—he'd almost reached their level—and then at Sidious and the brilliant lights dancing beneath their feet.

Anakin dove at Sidious. Their lightsabers clashed in dazzling bursts of blue and red sparks, and then their blades locked between them, both pushing against the other.

"I choose both," Anakin said.

He rammed his shoulder into Sidious and sent them both staggering towards the lopsided end of the bridge. Anakin feinted left and drew a reactionary swing from Sidious. Rather than evade, Anakin flung his own lightsaber and caught Sidious' arm in both hands. Sidious' red blade cut into Anakin's side, but Sidious halted even without Anakin's vice grip restraining him. Sidious' grin dropped, and genuine bewilderment marred his face.

Anakin yanked Sidious towards him and put the glaring red lightsaber to his back. If Sidious killed him, Obi-Wan had no reason to stay. Sidious did nothing, and Anakin caught him in a firm hold, his arms wrapped firmly around the shorter man. Anakin spun him around on the bridge and threw up his hand by instinct, by a feeling.

"Anakin, no!" Obi-Wan landed on the bridge and ran towards them.

Anakin caught him with the Force and hefted Obi-Wan off his feet. Obi-Wan wore a look of horror as he dangled in the air. Anakin moved his hand and pushed, and as he did, agonizing pain tore through his belly and overwhelmed his mind. At least, for a few moments, the visions ceased as throbbing pain took their place and provided adequate distraction. Anakin used the Force to throw Obi-Wan through one of the last remaining open doors, and it snapped shut a moment later.

"You fool." Sidious retracted his lightsaber and stumbled sideways with Anakin. Genuine disappointment poured out with his words.

A haze covered Anakin's eyes. Nevertheless, he used the Force to rip out the last bolt holding their end of the bridge to the wall. The bridge snapped and turned. All the while, Anakin kept his grip on Sidious, staggered with him, and eventually hit the railing as the bridge toppled. The reactor's core surged beneath them. Nothing stood between them and it, only an endless expanse of air.

"All hail the emperor," Anakin said, muted, and then he tipped over the railing and dragged the Sith Lord with him.


	10. Placing Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time to read, kudos, and bookmark, friends! And thanks, also, for the fun slew of comments that do entertain me dearly~ I would initiate endless discussions with all of you if not for spoiling this book, and so... I shall try to restrain myself. THANK YOU SO MUCH, everyone!

Obi-Wan crashed into sharp chunks of ferrocrete debris. Several hands grabbed him and hauled him backwards, and he blinked several times. White and red flashed before his eyes and alarms screamed from every direction. Familiar voices talked at him, but he had no idea to whom they belonged or what was said. He stared at the metal door of the tower—one of dozens—as it slammed shut behind him.

Sealing Anakin inside.

"Let me go," Obi-Wan said, pulling back against whoever grabbed him. He dug his heels into ruts torn through the ferrocrete, but he couldn't find purchase. "Let me go!"

"It's too late," replied the voice of a clone.

"We need to move—now!" A familiar voice, but Obi-Wan didn't bother placing it.

Obi-Wan was dragged across the yard and beyond the inner fence of the reactor complex. Just a few short seconds later, a containment field spread from the yard around the tower all the way to its highest peak. Obi-Wan followed its climb with his eyes as he dropped flat on his back beyond the field's reach. Water poured over his face and in his eyes, and it took a moment for him to realize it was rain.

The containment field lit the entire yard in orange light, and then the reactor exploded. The orange field dulled what should have been a blinding white explosion and muted the sound to a gentle rumble.

A knife cut through Obi-Wan's chest, and he grabbed at the front of his tunic and exhaled a gasp, the air strangled out of his lungs. He felt the loss in a way he never had before—he felt Anakin die. Felt the tear in their bond, felt the subsequent gaping emptiness to which no black hole could ever compare in intensity.

"Finished, it is," Master Yoda said, and he stood at a distance with his gimer stick to the ground, both hands folded on top of it. "Gone is Darth Sidious at last."

Many others gathered around. Clones, Jedi, civilians. For such a crowd to have formed, they must have known in advance what would happen. They had been waiting. It had all been planned.

"Anakin is dead," Obi-Wan said. It was all he could say. He scrambled to his feet, barely aware he still had his lightsaber in hand. He nearly dropped it as his fingers trembled. All around him, faces looked at him in concern—pity—but also much apathy and acceptance.

He didn't know what else to say, and he staggered to one side on legs that suddenly, somehow, couldn't bear his weight.

_You killed him_. He wanted to say, to ask, but he couldn't.

"General," Cody said, and he reached out a hesitant hand. He'd been near, probably the one who pulled him to safety. Kit Fisto was also near—he'd known. They'd pulled him away at the precise moment needed, because they all knew.

Obi-Wan didn't know what else to say or do, and so he walked. He walked away from the reactor, from the crowd, but he could not walk away from the sudden, inexplicable emptiness in himself.

Ahsoka stood on the outer fringes of the gathering, her own hand clasped at her chest. One lightsaber in hand, the other in a puddle on the ground. Rex stood alongside her, a hand on her shoulder. The reactor's lights flashed in her eyes. She didn't bother looking at Obi-Wan, and he trudged past her.

It was no consolation that she felt it, too.

The shroud of the dark side should have lifted, but Obi-Wan felt it stronger than ever before. It felt like a complete and utter failure, all of it.

And so he kept walking, alone, and the rain soaked him through.

\-----

"We're here, as you requested," Master Windu said, leaning forward in his chair with his hands pressed together between his knees. He waved his hand to indicate Obi-Wan's usual place. "Have a seat, Kenobi, and speak."

Obi-Wan stood in the center of the room surrounded by full chairs. All of the High Council members had returned in light of the situation with Sidious and the potential fall of the Temple. Now they gathered at his call. He didn't move for his chair and instead glanced at the only other vacant seat. The one in which Anakin usually sat.

"Did you formulate your plan with the intention of leaving Anakin in that reactor with Sidious?" Obi-Wan turned his attention from Master Windu and then locked eyes with Master Yoda. He already knew the answer. Asking was a formality.

"Our intention, it was not," Master Yoda said. "But a likely result, it was."

"Skywalker knew the risk, and he was in agreement with us," Master Windu added.

Obi-Wan stiffened. He swallowed a persistent lump in his throat that had choked him for the three days since Anakin's death. He'd tried to meditate, to find peace, but the Force seemed to abandon him. He found no solace there, only a strange, deafening silence he'd never experienced before. All he found in his inner world were the future memories of letting Anakin burn and walking away.

"You knew he would never escape and sent him anyway." Obi-Wan stifled the condemnation in his tone. In his mind, he understood. His heart did not. "You sent him to his death."

"Calm yourself, Kenobi," Master Windu said, and he leaned further forward. "This is war. Knowing full well what we asked of him, Skywalker chose to do his duty."

"Made his decision, young Skywalker did." Master Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the floor, and it echoed in the room that suddenly seemed so hollow and devoid of life. "A youngling he was not, and a Jedi he was. To serve the greater good, a Jedi must."

"Why was I not included in this decision?" Obi-Wan pulled back his shoulders. At his question, a few of the others exchanged looks, but most maintained a hard gaze on him. Obi-Wan remained equally as firm. "Did you think I might oppose the decision to send Anakin to his death?"

"As a Jedi," Master Windu started, "he made his decision—"

"He was in no condition to choose," Obi-Wan snapped, and even he was taken aback by the sudden incline in his voice.

A pregnant pause followed, and again a few of the others shared furtive looks.

"We are masters of our emotions, not the other way around." Master Windu sat straight in his seat and set his hands on the arms. Casual. Intimidating. Arrogant. As if he had just won an argument. "Skywalker has always had the tools he needed to rule his fear and his anger."

"No, he didn't," Obi-Wan said. "We assumed he did, we expected him to understand, but he didn't, because we—" The rest of his words caught on the tip of his tongue. _Because we didn't teach him._

No, because Obi-Wan didn't teach him. Because Obi-Wan didn't understand the suffering of a former slave, the agony of a child taken from his mother he knew and loved dearly. No Jedi could teach him how to let go, because no Jedi truly understood what it was like. And Anakin didn't know or understand, either, why he had been so different. As a result, he isolated himself and tucked away everything he didn't understand, parceled it off and played a role while inside he suffocated and died.

A flame of anger fluttered to life in Obi-Wan's chest, a hot coal waiting for a breath of air to ignite it. He looked straight at Master Yoda, unflinching.

"That very same day, Anakin brought the building down on top of himself. You knew very well what decision he would make when you asked him." The flames stoked, anger bubbled into his words. "We used Anakin's emotions against him when it suited our needs and condemned him for them when it didn't. You knew how he would answer, you asked him, and you let him go. You sent him to his death—you killed him."

Silence devoured the room, and anger burst to life in Obi-Wan. Not at them, but at himself. If he had returned to Anakin sooner, if he had convinced Anakin of his worth, perhaps the end result would have been different. Padmé had been right. Obi-Wan gave up on Anakin, so Anakin did, too.

Obi-Wan killed Anakin.

"Meditate, you should," Master Yoda said, not unkindly, but with a strange stiffness to his voice, as though he'd heard enough. "Refocus, you must, for soon change the galaxy will. Ready we must be."

Obi-Wan looked beyond Master Yoda to the first slivers of light peeking over the horizon. Bright orange and pink clouds painted the skyline of an otherwise lackluster sky. A few beams of sunlight cut through the darkness like bright beacons calling starships home.

He had tried to understand for the past three days, thought of where they went wrong again, how he had failed again _._ And with his current memories, the memories of his future self, and Anakin's entire lifetime laid bare before him, he put the puzzle pieces together.

In that strange in-between moment between night and day, all he felt was peace. Something in him cracked and broke, and in doing so, became whole. The present and the future aligned in such a way that he realized how blind he had been in the past and in the future. Now he understood Qui-Gon, understood Anakin, understood Sidious' far-reaching deceptions and the horrible ways in which they'd all been played. He understood, and he wondered how no one else did.

"Yes," he said, and he stared only at the brightening sky. "I will give the dark side no purchase, and I will trust in the Force. I will do what I must." He slipped his lightsaber, his life and a symbol of all he had believed in for as long as he lived, from his belt. It sat as deadweight in his hand. He took three confident steps forward and laid the lightsaber at Master Yoda's feet. "But not here."

"Obi-Wan." A stern, warning tone from Master Windu, as if he were speaking to a naïve youngling.

Obi-Wan met his fierce gaze with one of his own. He would not be intimidated by anyone. He was no child, no fool.

"If knowing the future has shown us anything, it is that the galaxy changed, and we as an Order failed to change with it. It has left us behind in its shadow." Obi-Wan turned and made for the door but paused after only a few steps. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "I believe in what we stand for. But in our obligation, it seems we forgot how to care."

He half turned to face the others, towards Master Yoda, but all he saw was the dazzling light of the sun swallowing the darkness.

"Did you never think it strange that the Force hid Anakin from us for nine years? That it gave him a lifetime of memories to make him so different from us?" Obi-Wan asked, and he meant it for himself as much as them. "And then the Force went out of its way to bring Qui-Gon, the single Jedi who would understand, to Anakin. Any of you would have left him there—I would have left him there. But the Force brought Qui-Gon to him."

Emotion rippled through his words and cut at his chest.

"Maybe the Force never intended for us to change Anakin into the perfect Jedi but instead for Anakin to change us." Obi-Wan turned his back to the rising sun. Blazing light cast his shadow at his feet, and he followed it to the door. As he swept the door open and exited without looking back, he said, "We killed him instead."

\-----

Obi-Wan leaned against the wall of the Temple and watched the sun spread its colors over Processional Way. He had come and gone from the Temple for nearly the past four decades, but a sense of loss gnawed in his chest as he thought this might be the last going without return. Despite the momentary grief, the decision was right. Not one based on emotion—no, for the past several days, he'd felt hardly anything at all if one did not count the emptiness left by Anakin's death.

He moved on instinct, survived on instinct, and trusted the Force to put him where he ought to be. And every conclusion he reached led him down those stairs and away from the Temple.

It was as though a part of Obi-Wan died with Anakin, and Obi-Wan had little understanding of the part that remained. The same thing had happened to his future self. Anakin's betrayal and the death of his true self, as Luke had called it, had set Obi-Wan adrift for nearly twenty years. Hoping, but hopeless.

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face with both hands and peeled himself off the wall. If circumstances had been different and it had been anyone but Anakin, he likely would have agreed with the Council. If it had been him dying in the reactor with Sidious, he would have agreed with it. A Jedi had a duty to the greater good, to the many people who would be saved at the cost of one life. One life, when weighed against all others, was inconsequential.

And yet Anakin had always cared for that one life and had always been acutely aware of singular existences. They'd blamed it on his need for attachments, and certainly that was partway true, but now Obi-Wan wondered. Qui-Gon had thought the same, that one life could have inexplicable value and worth, and if the Force deemed it worthy to lead that one life into your path, you ought not take it lightly.

Jar Jar had stumbled into Qui-Gon's path, and Qui-Gon helped him. Jar Jar wound up playing a vital role in freeing Naboo. For that matter, the same could be said of Anakin. If not for his meddling, the droid army likely would have overrun them then and there. Sometimes, the one was necessary to protect the many.

Sometimes the one _did_ matter.

Or maybe Obi-Wan's own attachment to Anakin had clouded his reason. He sighed and walked towards the steps bathed in golden light. Towards the path that would take him away from the Temple, away from the only life he'd ever known.

A familiar and high-pitched scream gave him pause, and he half turned near the stairs. R2 barreled out of the Temple, lights flaring wildly, and zigzagged along the walkway. Anakin's nuisance of a droid locked on and careened straight at him, then slammed into his leg and beeped furiously at him.

"What in the—" Obi-Wan staggered back and grabbed his sore leg, bewildered because he hadn't actually expected R2 to hit him. R2 beeped at him and rammed him again. "Artoo, what are you—"

All of the lights died. R2's flashing lights went out, and all of its colors flicked off. Obi-Wan had never seen the little droid in such a manner, not even during routine maintenance, when R2 usually still had plenty to chatter about in its nonsensical way. Now it was dead, silent and dark.

"Obi-Wan!" Padmé appeared out of the Temple. With one hand she lifted her long gown so she could hurry towards him, with her other hand she held under her belly. She wore dark blue, but the gown shimmered gold in the sunlight. Obi-Wan turned away and had half a mind to flee down the steps before she called out again, "Obi-Wan, please wait!"

He froze just as R2 had and stared at the warm glow of the sky.

"Obi-Wan," she said, puffing hard, her voice tinged with emotion.

He couldn't look at her. She'd warned him, and he hadn't listened. Hadn't had time to listen, with how quickly everything transpired, but Obi-Wan should have tried to do something from the start. The pain from Anakin's future betrayal had destroyed his empathy in the present. Anakin was dead because of it. Instead of looking at her, Obi-Wan looked down at R2.

"He's been like that for days," Padmé said, and she wrung her hands together in front of her before setting one on top of the droid. "He's worried about Anakin."

One corner of Obi-Wan's lips crept upwards. She and Anakin had the same tendency to personify the astromech droid. Then his lips fell, and he frowned. An icy dagger cut through him, and he managed to lift his face and meet Padmé's eyes.

"How is he?" Padmé asked. A cloud of fear swirled around her in the Force, but she maintained as much a rigid expression as she could. Tears shone in her eyes. She restrained them. "Where is Anakin?"

Obi-Wan stared at her. That was all he could do. They hadn't bothered to tell her that her husband was dead. By the look in her eyes and the heavy cloud smothering her, he gathered she already suspected as much. But no one bothered to confirm.

Anakin's sacrifice had been glossed over in reports and in most dialogue outside the High Council. Certainly the Senate hadn't bothered to discuss the sacrifice of a Jedi to stop a Sith Lord, particularly when that Jedi had been recently branded as Darth Vader.

Obi-Wan stared too long, and tears flooded Padmé's eyes. She gave the slightest shake of her head. Her hand rose to her chest and squeezed the fabric of her gown.

"No," she said, breathless and hardly audible. "He's…"

"I'm so sorry," he said to her, an echo of his future self. Both times, he relayed the news of Anakin's death, and both times by Anakin's choice. Yet this time was so, so very different. Heat stung behind his eyes.

"No," Padmé said, and she broke down and wept. She covered her face with a shaking hand. Through her sobs, she added, "It was supposed to be different." Half turning, she staggered towards the railing covering the outer edges of the Way. She clasped it with one hand, but her knees gave beneath her. Obi-Wan caught her weight and helped her down. She sat with her back to the wall. In tears, she repeated, "It was supposed to be different." Then she buried her face in both hands and wept.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to sit at her side, and he leaned against the wall. R2's top swiveled in their direction, but the droid didn't make a sound and didn't flash a single light. And for one sad, silly moment, Obi-Wan considered that Anakin's unruly love had somehow managed to bring even a droid to life. He smiled at the thought. The golden light of the sun cascaded over them, and the sky turned vibrant blue, but all of the colors swam together before his eyes.

Tears threatened to spill as Obi-Wan spoke, and his strength failed him.

"I am so sorry."


	11. Kamino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, friends~ Your time here is appreciated! Thanks also for the kudos, bookmarks, and the mind-blowing and engaging comments! You guys are seriously the best, and I appreciate you!! Please continue to enjoy~

Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat, folded his arms, and watched the galaxy smear into streaks of hyperspace through the transparisteel alongside him. In his little cabin aboard the transport carrier, it was mind-numbingly quiet, and the flickering blur through the port window had a strange, calming effect. He was more the sort to meditate in nature, by a pool of water or amidst leafy green foliage, but in that moment, nothing could have been better.

Padmé had offered her apartment to him while she was holed up in the Temple until the Order determined what to do with her, and Obi-Wan gratefully accepted her offer. While thoughtful and generous, the offer had backfired in a way Obi-Wan should have expected but didn't until it was too late. Traces of Anakin lingered everywhere in her apartment. Not of the visible sort, but his presence. Obi-Wan felt reverberations of it through the Force. It was the obnoxious itch he couldn't scratch, and it made him restless. It made his chest ache. It reminded him something was missing.

So when Padmé informed him the Senate and Order agreed to move the clones to Kamino in an effort to mass remove their control chips, Obi-Wan hastily offered to go with them. Not under any official sort of duty, but merely because he had nothing else to do. And he could not be idle. Padmé had argued with him not to go, that it might be dangerous if the jamming signal failed and Order 66 activated. Rightfully so. But Cody and a host of other clones who had already had the chip removed joined him on his ship. The number of free clones far outweighed those with control chips on his specific vessel. Those who still needed the procedure arrived on other ships, some from all corners of the galaxy.

Obi-Wan sat back in comfortable silence and allowed his mind to drift in quiet meditation. He'd found it again—the steady, ever-present stream of the Force that calmed him, that gave purpose and meaning to his existence. Even if not a Jedi serving the Order, he believed in the will of the Force and in its light, its guidance, its presence. And so he allowed it to run over him, drowning him in endless peace.

Visions of the future no longer consumed him. He had sifted through his future self's life, through his hardships, through his grief. He came to terms with his future self well enough—he even accepted that he loved Anakin through it all, and he accepted that his future self taught Anakin how to maintain his consciousness within the Force after death, so that Anakin might for the first time know true peace and that they might spend forever together in that place of quiet tranquility.

But in the present, in the new future that would be, Anakin no longer existed. Obi-Wan could not bring him back to himself, could not help his wounds to heal, could not show Anakin that his love for him remained. No, the new future was the one Obi-Wan had to wrestle with, because Anakin wasn't in it.

Visions from Anakin's life surfaced during Obi-Wan's meditation. Perhaps it was the Force, or perhaps it was his own mind that drew them to the surface, but Obi-Wan didn't resist. Instead, he let them become an intimate part of him, same as his own memories, as though he had lived them. His future self found peace, but Obi-Wan no longer had that future, and so he struggled to understand where he failed, when he lost Anakin, and what he could possibly have done differently.

And so he stepped into the heart and mind of a slave boy on Tatooine who knew only a mother and not a father. Having a mother at all made him better off than most slaves, and Anakin knew that full well. Anakin knew many things a child should never have to consider, such as how to placate slavers who would beat or deprive of necessities if angered, or how to navigate the cruel streets of an entire civilization built on violence and deception. He also knew loss: the loss of friends to needless acts of violence, to starvation, to transfer of ownership.

Anakin Skywalker understood loss very well, and he feared it. It was so familiar and friendly to him, a daily part of his existence, and he often feared when loss would strike again because he had so little to lose. Feared when it would strike the hardest and take from him what mattered the most.

Despite his fear, Anakin was brilliant, compassionate, and courageous. He dreamed of justice, of freeing his fellow slaves. He plotted ways to save them and began building a device to rid them of their explosive security measures. He stood up for his fellow slaves, even if it earned him a few blows for his troubles. All given without expectation, simply because it was right and because his mother had taught him the galaxy would be better if only everyone did as such. Because he understood that people mattered—that an individual life mattered. Even if no one cared about a slave on Tatooine, Anakin did. Everyone had value and intrinsic worth.

And yet. A complete contradiction, Anakin deeply understood one other thing: his life did not matter. He was valuable only so long as he performed, only so long as he had the approval of his master. Failure meant rejection, violence, disposal, or even death. Thus was the life of a slave. A slave who did not earn his keep did not have the right to exist.

Anakin always had to prove himself, and often it came easy because of his brilliant little mind. But disapproval of any kind ate at him and tore at the core of his being. Crushed his self-worth, little by little.

Obi-Wan followed Anakin through slavery, all the way to Qui-Gon. Seeing his former Master's tenderness towards the boy stirred familiar warmth in Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon had never been much of a traditional Jedi, and though he remained outwardly detached—for the most part—it was obvious Qui-Gon cared for Anakin almost immediately. It had been meant to be, the two of them meeting each other.

Anakin mentioned a dream to Qui-Gon, about becoming a Jedi and returning to free the slaves. Something lit up in Qui-Gon's eyes in that moment, and Obi-Wan retraced his steps through Anakin's life to understand why. The dream had been as real as the visions Obi-Wan saw of the future—had they been visions? Had Anakin been so gifted in the Force that he had been witnessing visions of the future his entire life? Qui-Gon seemed to think so, if his momentary alertness to the comment meant what Obi-Wan thought it did.

Along they went, and Anakin was happy to obey Qui-Gon, happy to follow in his shadow. And then Coruscant happened. Anakin's self-worth crumbled in on itself, and the barb of fear dug in deep. The need to prove himself, to keep from being rejected and thrown away, twisted his inner self into a knot of confliction. It began with the Council.

It exploded into a monstrosity at Obi-Wan.

_That boy is dangerous. The Council sees it. Why don't you?_

Anakin's first real impression of Obi-Wan, his first understanding of him, was rejection. And it stuck like a thorn in Anakin's flesh for years. The fear of never being good enough. The fear of being rejected.

Had Obi-Wan destroyed Anakin before they even began?

Obi-Wan leaned forward in his seat and covered his mouth with his hand. Hyperspace gave way to a sea of stars beyond the port window. He stared into the bleak and endless space. The ache in his chest grew, and the hollow place in his heart drained the life out of him.

He had abandoned Anakin on the _Invisible Hand_ and every moment thereafter. Anakin had failed, and Obi-Wan had abandoned him. Everything Anakin feared had come true—and then he died believing it. No future reconciliation. No return from darkness.

Anakin had died believing he was only worth throwing away.

The thunder of footsteps drew Obi-Wan back from what could have been a significantly detrimental downward spiral. He smoothed both hands over his face and rose. Clones raced down the corridor outside his room, their armor clattering. No shouting and no alarms, but Obi-Wan felt a prickle of anxiety in the Force.

He followed the noise to the bridge where Cody and a dozen troopers clustered around the communications station. Cody glanced at him, a familiar look of concern marring his features. Never fear—oh no, not with Cody—but with the genuine air that something was terribly, dreadfully wrong.

"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan turned his question to Cody.

"We tried contacting the facility, but we aren't receiving a response. We're hitting nothing at all—nothing is even receiving our signal." Cody stepped aside with Obi-Wan. He didn't have to, because technically Obi-Wan was a civilian and Cody outranked him. "Our initial scans don't show anything down there."

It took a moment for the words to process, and Obi-Wan frowned.

"Anything?"

"No signs of life, no electronic signals," Cody said, and he waved his hand at the blue planet swirled with white clouds. "As far as our scanners can tell, there's nothing down there."

A blank screen glared at Obi-Wan from the console, proof that Cody spoke the truth. He scratched his beard, aware of the unsettled knot in his stomach that arose whenever unfortunate happenings were about to take place.

"I'll lead a unit to the surface to make contact and see what's going on," Cody finally said, and he tipped his head at the others cluttered around the console. "The rest of you, remain on standby, and stay vigilant."

"I'd like to go with you," Obi-Wan said, and Cody raised an eyebrow. "I have a bad feeling about this, and I'd rather see things firsthand."

Cody nodded and then turned to bark quick orders for his men to assemble and to prepare a landing craft. Obi-Wan stared at the blue and white planet outside the port window, and the knot in his stomach tightened. It had been doing that a lot lately. His instincts, led by his intimate connection to the Force, were rarely wrong, and so the eternal sense of impending dread concerned him.

They made haste to their landing craft and to the planet's surface with a group of near 25 men. As they descended upon the planet and passed through the atmosphere, Obi-Wan's sense of foreboding grew. When they broke through the clouds into a downpour of rain, only darkness greeted them. Devoid of lights, the city and its sprawling facilities stood out merely as a solid, black speck against crashing ocean waves. The closer they got, the darkness grew.

When they settled on one of the landing platforms, they met no resistance. Not a surprise, since Obi-Wan had also entered unhindered just several years back, but the lack of lights set all of them on edge. Cody led his team to disembark, in full gear against the rain and armed with blasters, and hurried to one of the facility entrances. The sliding doors held shut, unresponsive. Cody waved in suggestion at his men to rally on either side of the door, and then he himself stepped ahead and pried the door open. It slithered in its track with a squeal and a groan and allowed them entrance.

The entire unit marched synchronized through the door, blasters aimed and ready. Obi-Wan glanced at their landing craft blinking through sheets of rain and then followed the group inside. Every last man stopped in the main room, and eventually blasters lowered and lights on helmets flicked on. Obi-Wan stared into the gaping maw of endless darkness.

"Where is everyone?" one of the men asked, his voice muffled by his helmet. No one answered.

Not a trace of life presented itself even as they shuffled through corridors towards training facilities, barracks, and research stations. Blasters and helmets littered the floors, tables and chairs lay overturned, and a few computer stations had been smashed. But aside from these curiosities, nothing suggested a struggle or any sort of battle. Rather, it looked like the living had fled in haste.

"Everyone is gone," said one of the men in a hushed voice, and he shook his head, the light on his helmet bouncing across the room.

"Well," another man said, halted in the doorway of the armory, "almost everyone."

The rest of the group shuffled in and peered over his shoulder. A few clones lay dead on the floor, bombs and blasters scattered behind them. The room showed no outward signs of battle, no scars from blaster fire, and certainly no explosions of any bombs. It looked as though the men simply collapsed and died.

Cody knelt next to one of the men and started to turn the body over. Only half the body moved at his touch—the man cut clean in half. Cody released him without turning him, so that the body stayed in one piece.

"Burned through," he said. "Like a lightsaber."

Obi-Wan stiffened. Anakin's memories immediately jumped to mind: Anakin leveling the Jedi, cutting through Separatist leaders Sidious no longer had use for, decimating any and all that stood in his way. It was quick, like a knee-jerk reaction without explanation. And the moment after he saw such images, Obi-Wan felt a surge of shame and grief that he hastily released to keep from letting it wear him down.

Anakin was dead. He couldn't have done anything.

Then his mind went straight to the last known lightsaber user he could imagine doing something like this: Grievous.

Cody went to one of the computers and prodded a few keys to no effect. The buttons and screens remained dark. He took a bomb from the floor and turned it over in his hand.

"It's fried," he said, and then he scanned the room again, his light flashing from the far wall to the computer system beside him. "Everything's fried." He turned, and the light from his helmet flashed across Obi-Wan's eyes and made him wince.

Every last light on their helmets blinked out with a crackling pop and cast them in complete darkness. Aside from the clattering of armor, the room remained silent. The hairs stood on the back of Obi-Wan's neck, and the pit in his stomach twisted.

"We need to tell the Republic what we've found here," Obi-Wan said with some slight hesitation, because they had no idea what they'd found.

Metal tapped on metal, and then Obi-Wan recognized the sound of helmets disengaging to be removed.

"Comm is dead, too," Cody said, voice loud and clear since he had removed his helmet. More rattling followed, and then a trigger clicked several times as it was pulled but did nothing. "I think I know why no one put up a fight. The weapons are dead." Another clatter of metal on metal followed along with more unresponsive trigger clicks. "Let's get back outside."

The clones, familiar with the layout of their home, managed to lead the way back to the entrance with relative ease despite the darkness. Streams of dull light poured in through the main windows and open door, giving everyone and everything a stone-gray complexion. Most of the clones had removed their helmets, as their visors no longer proved useful in the scant light. A few made straight for the ship, vanishing in cloaks of rain on the platform, but Obi-Wan lingered. Cody joined him.

"Any idea what happened here?"

"Nothing good." Obi-Wan ran a finger over his bearded chin and stared at light glinting off puddles on the floor. "Killing the clones was once the Separatists' intentions, but why bother taking them alive when the jamming signal is still inhibiting the chips? Why take Kaminoans at all?"

"Who's to say they did?" Cody frowned. "For all we know, there's now a graveyard at the bottom of the ocean."

"Maybe," Obi-Wan said, but he didn't believe it. Why bother doing whatever they did so neatly, so cleanly as to preserve lives and prevent damage, when their intention was to kill? Explosives could have sunk the city. He shook his head to himself. "But something doesn't seem right…"

"Commander, you might want to see this!" called a trooper from outside.

Obi-Wan, Cody, and the few lingering clones ran onto the platform and into the downpour, and several clones returned their helmets to their heads against the wind and rain. One of the troopers pointed to the clouds, and Obi-Wan shielded his eyes with a hand and squinted. A large vessel appeared from out of the clouds, one of the transport ships from their convoy.

"What are they doing?" one of the men asked, and only bewildered silence answered him.

The vessel descended on the city, engines whirring and lights blinking without apparent harm. Only, the ship didn't slow as if intending to land—which became more and more apparent the closer it came. The engines roared over the wind and rain, the flames painting orange a line of sky behind it. The ship loomed over them, tilted in a straight trajectory towards the city.

"What are they doing?" another trooper echoed the first, and several of the men stepped back.

Obi-Wan and Cody stood shoulder to shoulder and stared as the ship shot like a cumbersome dart straight into one of the adjoining buildings. It smashed into the tower of the building, the point of the ship digging down into the dome structure of the main facility beneath. The horrifying, high-pitched scream of metal on metal tore at their ears, and the platform under their feet lurched and tilted to the side. The tipping platform and the slick metal surface gave little purchase, and they scrambled to stay standing.

A majority of the tower crumpled under the weight of the vessel. The massive carrier halted with its prow pushed into the dome building below. Its middle balanced precariously on the twisted remains of the tower, and the stern of the ship stuck up in the air. Smoke billowed out from the vessel, and even through the rain Obi-Wan could see the flames eating through the ship. Red lights blazed from the viewport of the bridge. The ship still had power.

"Sir," said a clone, breathlessly, and drew their attention.

Dozens of smaller battleships, starfighters, and vulture droids dropped out of the clouds and blanketed the sky. A torpedo fired from the lead-most craft and smashed their landing vessel clean off the platform and hurled it into the waves below. The enemy starfighter closed in with several larger vessels flanking it. The clones aimed their blasters out of habit, but Cody waved them back towards the door. If the armory was any indication, they had nothing with which to fight.

The starfighter and companion carriers aligned with their tilted platform and dropped open their doors without fear of repercussions. Dozens of armed droids marched off the vessels into the rain. A familiar half-droid jumped out of the starfighter, his metal feet clanking on the platform before he unleashed a slick, guttural laugh.

"Grievous," Obi-Wan muttered, his gaze locked on the general while ignoring the droids swarming the platform.

"General Kenobi," Grievous bellowed. He clanked forward with his hands folded behind his back. His cape fluttered behind him in the wind. "So glad you could join us for this monumental occasion." He swept his arms out in a broad gesture, as if awaiting something grand to happen. "The moment the war at last is won."

"Fall back," Cody said only loud enough for the troops gathered around to hear him. "Get inside and barricade the doors."

"We don't stand much of a chance here." Obi-Wan dipped his head in the direction of the endless droids drawing near and the fleet of ships over their heads that must have contained hundreds more droids. It was then he noticed the other passenger vessels from their convoy amidst the Separatist ships—detained or overthrown.

"I don't know," Cody commented, slinking backwards. "I think one former Jedi General might be able to come up with something."

Obi-Wan let out a faint laugh but finally allowed his foot to slide back in preparation to run. They needed help—and if they could get inside the city and barricade it for long enough to get some of the technology to work, they might be able to contact reinforcements. It was a long shot, but Obi-Wan didn't much feel like giving Grievous the satisfaction of surrender.

"Before you run away," Grievous said slickly, and again the hair on Obi-Wan's neck stood on end. It was as though Grievous could see the future, or read their thoughts. He'd done it on Coruscant as well. Again, Obi-Wan had the sensation he was a piece on a game board being played. "Since we have disabled all your technology, a weapon for the Jedi might well serve your sorry lot."

Grievous tucked his hand into his cloak, and Obi-Wan, Cody, and the clones hesitated. If it was some sort of explosive, Obi-Wan would deflect it. They couldn't turn their backs and risk a hit. But Grievous only pulled out a lightsaber and tossed it into the space between them. It clattered on the platform and slid a short distance on the wet, tilted metal. Grievous chuckled, and he and his droids held their ground.

Obi-Wan glared at Grievous and then the lightsaber. Chills swept through him and bumps spread across his skin. He sank, his heart sank, and the knot in his stomach grew ever tighter.

Anakin's lightsaber lay on the platform. The very same lightsaber Anakin had dropped into the core of the reactor moments before it exploded. The lightsaber Anakin had dropped so he could seize Sidious and save Obi-Wan. Only, the weapon remained flawless and clean, as though nothing had happened to it at all.

_We have… Skywalker._

Obi-Wan's heart stuttered. A game. It was some terrible, twisted game. Or was it?

Cody gave a subtle pull on Obi-Wan's arm.

"Let's go, General."

Obi-Wan used the Force to draw the lightsaber to him, and Grievous allowed it with nothing more than another slimy laugh. At least 50 droids gathered around with blasters held but not aimed. Waiting—they were waiting for something, or someone. Obi-Wan turned the lightsaber in his hand, a lump in his throat that suffocated the life out of him.

_We have… Skywalker._

Mind blank, Obi-Wan let Cody haul him towards the battered doors after the rest of the men. Grievous laughed as they went, and his droids did absolutely nothing.


	12. Vader's Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO, SO much for the continued support for this story! You guys with your comments, kudos, bookmarks, follows, everything--you're all amazing. And thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to read. I appreciate you!!!! Please continue to enjoy~~~~~

A surge of pain washed through Anakin, and he temporarily jolted out of the visions in his head and back to reality. His back arched, and he screamed against the pain. Force lightning or an electro-jabber—he couldn't differentiate. It didn't matter. When the electric current ceased, he collapsed onto a surface that stabbed into his skin and muscles.

Dull metallic gray blurred over his head. Lights blinked at the corners of his vision, but he couldn't turn his head. He tried to lift a hand, but his wrists were bound. Something sharp and tight, like a brace, secured his wrists instead of the frigid metal shackles he'd previously worn.

He had no idea how long he had been here, wherever here was. Only that he was alive and shouldn't be and wished he wasn't.

His mind wandered despite his best efforts to rein it. A strange effect of the electricity was to bring him back and then elicit another wave of nightmares.

Bodies crumpled before him. Young and old. It all went by in a blur, and Anakin barely noticed their faces. Didn't care to stop and see their species, their sex, their age, or any other detail about them. They stood in his way, so he destroyed them. Again and again and again. Anakin began disassociating with the Tuskens—they were animals, nothing more than barely sentient barbarians. Eventually, the entire galaxy became as such, trivial things that needed to be put down.

Anakin destroyed the Jedi and the Republic. Padmé and Obi-Wan. He enslaved entire planets. He obliterated entire worlds. He tortured his children.

Another shock of lightning ran through him, ripping him back to reality.

"My boy, you are finally awake. Good, good," said the silky voice of Sidious from somewhere over Anakin's head. He strode into view, shadows draped around him in the scant light. A gentle smile crept onto his lips as he gazed down at Anakin. He set a hand on Anakin's forehead and sent a wave of chills shuddering through Anakin's muscles. "I suppose you are wondering how we are not dead. I would be surprised, too. It was a well-thought-out plan."

So Sidious had lived, and Anakin had failed. If the Force had a sense of humor, it wasn't a very good one.

Sidious' grin grew into something grotesque, feral.

"But you should know, it was my plan, and so the results, of course, were in my favor. I lured you, not the other way around."

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Purple light flashed near his legs, and then another surge of electricity washed through him. Electro-jabbers. He writhed and choked back a scream, and then he collapsed. He still could not turn his neck, but he glimpsed a droid skirting his vision. He also saw glossy black at the tips of his feet. His boots never would have shined like that.

"I planted a vessel, shielded us in our own containment field, and fled with no one the wiser. And the Jedi believe we are dead. That is the greatest deception, for now they are lulled into a false sense of complacency. Focused on trivial distractions," Sidious said.

Another wave of electricity jolted through Anakin. All day, every day. Endless pain, but he didn't care anymore.

Sidious smoothed Anakin's hair away from his forehead, maybe like a father. Anakin wanted to turn away but couldn't. The touch felt invasive, offensive—treacherous. It played at affection but was nothing more than a lie.

"While the vision was a nuisance at first, it has proven to be quite enlightening. For you see, Anakin, I own the future. Nothing is hidden from me." Sidious paced a small track around Anakin's head. "I have been able to view my shortcomings from an outside perspective and consider how I might better myself. And improve I have." He leaned over Anakin. "I have seen beyond the ambitions of my former self. And merely destroying the Jedi seems so insignificant now."

Electricity surged through Anakin, and he writhed on the table. Every jolt sent a cascade of disoriented images ricocheting through his brain. Padmé dead. Obi-Wan dead. Torture. Slavery. Slaughter.

Sidious ran his hand across Anakin's head one last time, his fingertips ice against Anakin's skin. Then he withdrew, his grin vanished, and he stepped back. A wicked and sinister gleam leaped through his eyes.

"Do it."

Gears whirred somewhere beyond Anakin's vision, and then light caught on something moving over his head. Anakin flinched from the brightness, at the haze of shapes. An oval splotch of black came into focus above his head, fixed over him by a metal arm. The shape lowered towards his face. Red lenses glared at him in a frame of solid black. Familiar. Unmistakable.

A black mask.

Dread swelled in his chest, and visions flickered through Anakin's mind of the same, haunting image from the future. He let out a muffled protest, but his throat, his tongue couldn't form words. Instead, he unleashed a garbled scream—it was all he could do. He tried to turn, but something braced his neck in place. Wrists and ankles shackled. Trapped.

"I told you, Anakin. The future is inevitable. This is your destiny," Sidious said, his gentle words booming in Anakin's head.

The mask landed on Anakin's face and locked into place with a definitive click. Anakin thrashed against his bonds but couldn't move. He could hear himself inside the mask, but he also heard the strange echo of a deeper voice and rasping breaths. The mask didn't have a breathing mechanism, but it distorted his voice just the same. It burned in his ears, haunted his mind. The horrible words spoken by his future self. His raspy breaths. It was the voice of his cruel, true self.

Another shot of electricity went through him, and Anakin screamed against that, too. Image after image swirled in his head of the atrocities he had done.

"Do not be alarmed, Anakin," Sidious said. He set his hand near Anakin's shoulders, but Anakin didn't feel a thing. "I have no intention of killing you. In fact, you will not be left with a single scar. This time, I will have your body fully intact and at full power." The feral smile reappeared, and darkness stormed in his eyes. All seen through the red haze of the mask's tainted lenses. "It is your mind I do not need."

Sidious swept away and out of Anakin's vision. Another jolt of electricity shot through Anakin, more powerful than before. Force lightning, probably. An endless stream poured over and through Anakin. He jerked against whatever confines held him. Weight pressed against his chest and his lungs constricted.

"Once your mind is broken, you will belong to me. The more you fight, the more I will be forced to take measures against you." Sidious spoke firmly, and the lightning stopped. "What must I destroy for you to succumb? I wonder where your children will go. To Senator Organa or to the Lars family?"

Anakin shuddered as more and more images crowded his mind. Luke. Leia. Sidious knew where they belonged—where they would go. They were all targets because of Anakin.

"What of the clones? There are so very many of them, and the fragile jamming signal could fail at any moment." Booming footsteps echoed through the room, through the mask. "What of Padmé—dear Padmé. I do hope she survives childbirth this time. Oh wait… childbirth did not kill her." The footsteps paused. "You did."

Images. An entire lifetime screamed through Anakin's mind. Once. Twice. Faster than ever before. All of the anger, the suffering, lumped together in a few brief seconds. Then again. Anakin's heart stuttered in his chest, racing so fast. He couldn't breathe.

"Submit, Anakin, and such measures may not need to be taken. Let us pave the way to a new and glorious future together where everyone bows to our power." The footsteps moved away, but Sidious' voice rose in pleasure. "And I mean _everyone_."

Electricity shot through Anakin, and his vision went black. He never lost consciousness—the obnoxious droids attending him didn't allow sleep. Instead, he lurked somewhere between awake and asleep, between living and dead. Felt the pain coursing through him and watched his life flash before his eyes on loop, hundreds of times.

Watched as he destroyed the galaxy.

Anakin tried again to understand how he could become such a monster, but nothing made sense. Even the risk of Padmé's life, how could he betray her and bend a knee to Sidious, to the corruption she hated. He couldn't understand how he transformed into a monster, so his only conclusion was that he had always been one. A monster wearing the mask of an innocent man.

As he often did to escape the physical pain, Anakin sank into the Force. He could numb his mind to the external forces, but he couldn't flee from himself—he was always there. His future and his failures were burned forever in his mind. Truth, not lies. Fact, not fiction. He could never escape them.

The memories followed him into the Force. Pounded at him. Buried him.

People expected excellence from Anakin, but he'd failed at everything. He'd convinced the world he was a worthwhile General and Jedi, a person of value. But he was a monster that needed to be put down before he could destroy the innocent.

What would he have to do to make Sidious kill him? The dead didn't hurt anybody.

Then the visions of death and destruction receded and gave way to an empty world of white. He sat in a physical body in the strange, muted world. Ripples of color swirled around him. The warmth of the Force sheltered him, and he loathed it. He didn't deserve its comfort.

His hands were a child's hands, calloused from years of tinkering at Watto's shop. He wore the clothes of a slave—of his nine-year-old self, for that's what he'd become.

"Ani," called out a familiar voice.

It stirred in Anakin great anguish, and tears filled his eyes. He lifted his head to peer across the white expanse.

Qui-Gon stood not far off, closer than he felt. He folded his hands inside his sleeves and arranged his face into a solemn frown. It wasn't a dream, or a vision—it was as real as the first time Anakin had met him.

"I am sorry, Ani," Qui-Gon said. "I never wanted this to happen to you. But I did what was necessary to prevent that future from coming to pass. I could not reach you sooner—I could not reach Obi-Wan at all. You must understand that this was the only way." He did not blink or falter as he said, "I intended only for you and Obi-Wan to see the vision. The Force had other plans."

Tears spilled down Anakin's face. Qui-Gon had sent the vision. In all of his wisdom, with all of his power, even after death he managed a greater feat than any Jedi alive. No, perhaps because he was dead, was one with the Force. And because of him, Obi-Wan, Padmé, and many others would hopefully be spared.

Spared from Anakin.

"You should have listened to them," Anakin said in a child's voice, still nine years old. "Everyone knew, even Obi-Wan. That I was dangerous. You should have listened." And he wept, because now he knew it, too. What the Council had said was true. What Obi-Wan had warned Qui-Gon about on the landing platform years ago was true.

_That boy is dangerous. The Council sees it. Why don't you?_

"Ani—" Qui-Gon took a step forward, his presence comforting and warm.

Anakin didn't deserve it, and so with a fierce mental push, he shoved him away. Qui-Gon slammed into an invisible wall, and the Jedi Master pressed his hands against it, bewildered.

"Anakin—"

"You should have left me," Anakin said. He wasn't blaming Qui-Gon. No, it was good to believe in others, wasn't it? But everyone knew from the start there was no hope for him, and they should have believed it. Everyone should have believed it. "I would have lived and died a slave and the galaxy would be better for it." Anakin buried his face in his hands. Throbbing pain lanced through his head, through his chest and limbs. Every muscle burned. "You should have listened to them."

Anakin drew his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and buried his face as tears fell. Qui-Gon's presence lingered, warm and familiar. Something Anakin imagined a father's presence might be like, not that he knew. Palpatine—Sidious—had once made him think as such. Emotions, attachments, feelings were not to be trusted.

So he pushed Qui-Gon away with another mental shove, and as he did, Anakin wept.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I failed you." And he pushed, and pushed, and pushed.

When at last he lifted his head, tears drenching his tattered trousers, Qui-Gon was gone. And the white, fluffy world faded away. Horrific memories poured in. Death poured in. Torture, destruction, and despair poured in. All he could hear was that horrific breathing—through Darth Vader's mask. Through _his_ mask.

He was Darth Vader, and that raspy, gasping breath that struck terror into the galaxy? It was his.

All the visions gave way to one that played out before his eyes in slow motion. Something new, something different. So real and tangible that he could feel the drench of humidity, could smell the musty scent of wet. The din of blaster fire muted all other sounds. The battered ruins of a large craft formed out of a haze, and he saw Obi-Wan, soaked and with hair plastered to his forehead, leaning against a sparking control panel. Obi-Wan had Anakin's lightsaber, but he wasn't using it.

Sidious approached him and raised a hand. Obi-Wan rose from the ground, a ragdoll strangled by a vise grip to the neck. Sidious ran the red blade of his lightsaber through Obi-Wan's heart.

Another wave of electricity ripped Anakin from the vision, from the images that weren't a part of his future memories.

Pain washed over him, and yet he dove back into the numbness of the Force where he was only remotely aware of the agony his body suffered.

Again, more prominent and louder than all other visions, he saw the images of Obi-Wan slain at the hands of Sidious. The destroyed bridge of a ship, Sidious' death grip, all played out before Anakin as clear as though he stood in the midst of it.

Sidious hoisted Obi-Wan into the air and strangled the life out of him. " _Now it is my time. Die, Kenobi._ " Then the Sith Lord stepped forward and thrust his lightsaber through Obi-Wan's chest.

Obi-Wan jolted from whatever immediate sense of pain he felt, eyes wide, and then he was gone. Sidious cast him into a sea of clone trooper bodies, their white armor marred with the charred marks of blaster fire.

An electro-jabber hit Anakin and sent another wave of burning pain through him, scattering the images in his mind. They came back again on loop: Obi-Wan died at Sidious' hands. Again, and again, and again.

If trying to understand and change the future were forbidden paths to the dark side, why did Anakin have visions at all? Why did the Force _make_ them exist? Anakin never tried to see the future, not intentionally. He'd never wanted to see any of it, not his mother's death, not Padmé's death, not his fall to the dark side. What was the point of it, if only for Anakin to suffer again and again by having to watch? By standing by, watching, and doing nothing.

If he was meant to do nothing, why bother showing him? And if he was meant to change it, why did it always go wrong? Everything Anakin tried caused more pain than what he tried to prevent. Everything he did ended in failure. And so he watched as Sidious struck Obi-Wan down, knowing full well he could do nothing to stop it.

Again, the visions danced through his mind. Again, the Force deemed to torment him with a vision of the future he could not, should not touch. An attempt to change the future would lead only to failure and greater death. Padmé vs. the galaxy, and Anakin had chosen wrong. Obi-Wan vs. what? Who would die for Obi-Wan to live? What foolish choice would Anakin make, and who would suffer the consequences of it? Again, and again, the visions played.

Choke. Stab.

Anakin's muscles tightened. His head throbbed.

Choke. Stab.

He couldn't do anything to escape it. Another jolt of electricity shot through him. His hands squeezed into fists, but they didn't feel right, as if he were trying to grab through oversized gloves.

Choke. Stab.

Why did he have to see it? Why did he have to watch the people he loved die knowing he could do nothing?

Choke. Stab.

He didn't want the dark side. He didn't want power. He didn't want to control the future. He didn't want anything but to be left alone.

"I don't want to see," he said, his voice cracked, broken, and unrecognizable even to his own ears. Inside the mask, it sounded weak and hollow, but beyond the mask it sounded deep and husky, like two completely different voices he could hear at one time. "I don't want to see and do nothing."

Choke. Stab.

"Don't give it to me!" he screamed at the Force, and he pulled at the restraints binding his wrists. He wanted to claw at his own face, at the mask that twisted his voice into that of a monster. "Don't give it to me if you don't want me to change it! Don't give it to me if you don't want me to try!" As he screamed, another jolt of electricity shot through him from somewhere, but he was so numb that it tingled harmlessly through his stiff muscles.

And then another vision, a break in a blanket of clouds. Streaks of sunlight cutting through a demolished ship. Water dripped off metal into glinting puddles. Anakin knelt and found the mask of Darth Vader on the ground. He picked it up and brushed it off, and he had the immense feeling that, once and for all, he would sink into oblivion and disappear. He turned the mask to his face and drew it near.

"Don't," Anakin muttered, stricken. Don't give in.

Choke. Stab.

"Don't," he said, and then he ripped both of his arms upwards and towards his chest, and whatever shackles bound him snapped. "Don't!"

He threw himself from a metal table, the shackles on his ankles shattering as easily as those on his wrists. Several droids came at him with electro-jabbers, but Anakin caught the blade of one with his hand—his hand gloved in polished black armor—and held fast. Purple threads of electricity swam around the black armor on his hand, but he couldn't feel it. He grabbed the weapon and flung the droid into a wall with impossible strength. The droid shattered and fell to pieces like fragile clay pottery.

Anakin held his hand out against several other droids swarming through the door, and they crumpled at a mere thought. Not just the droids, either. An entire wall collapsed, and the computer console connected to it shattered, sparked, and burst into flames. Anakin staggered towards the door on feet not his own. He stood taller than before and wore a treacherous suit of pure black armor to match the mask on his face, the helmet on his head. He stumbled to one of many computer consoles in the room, and on the blank screen, his reflection stared back at him.

Darth Vader stared back at him.

Anakin smashed the screen with his mechno-arm and the polished glove, and he felt nothing. He staggered to the door, images of the future playing in front of his eyes on top of reality, living two lives at once. A swarm of battle droids came at him with blasters, but with just a thought he pushed them several meters in a tangled knot of metal.

When blaster fire crashed over him, he held out a hand. A shield of white light danced off his fingertips and dissolved every shot. When he reached the droids, he simply pushed them with the shield. An unhindered march straight through metal corridor after metal corridor. A few droids came from behind, and they exploded at a mere nudge from the Force.

All the while, the future played on. Obi-Wan died. Clones slaughtering the Jedi. Anakin put on the mask. Jedi slaughtering the clones. A new future, no better than the last.

Anakin would not do nothing.

He reached the end of the corridor and found a hangar bay, and at least two dozen droids rolled in a haphazard ball in front of the barrier he held at his fingertips. He pushed with the Force and flung them away into the hangar. With resolve and without fear, Anakin marched towards the smaller ships at the back of the bay. Small vessels built for speed.

Beyond the ships, the mouth of the hangar gaped open into a world of glistening blue that blinded Anakin.

Anakin stormed to a row of various starfighters and scanned for a functional hyperdrive without the need for a hyperdrive ring. A cluster of destroyers rolled around the line of ships and unraveled before him, shields up, but Anakin simply hoisted them in the air and flung them out into the endless blue beyond the hangar. His head hurt and his mind went fuzzy, but it was all surprisingly easy even though he felt as though his body was on fire.

He slid into one of the starfighters with a hyperdrive, a sleek gray vessel packed with a blaster and little else. He brought the fighter to life and opened fire on incoming droids and every nearby ship he could take down. Then he propelled the ship out of the hangar and into brilliant blue skies littered with a few blossoms of white clouds. Below lay the picturesque landscape of sprawling green forests and sheer mountain peaks of gray and white, and an endless, aquamarine ocean like something out of a holo. Pure, unadulterated paradise.

Without R2, he was at the mercy of whatever coordinates had already been set for the hyperdrive. Anakin was pleasantly surprised—and equally concerned—that the last route used by the starfighter and the only coordinates set for it would send him straight to Kamino.


	13. Storming the Carrier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your continued support, in whatever form it may come. I appreciate you!!!! Honestly, this story was a blast for me to write, so I'm glad you're able to enjoy it~ I hope it does not disappoint~!

"What now, sir?" one of the clones asked Cody as they gathered inside an interior room within the facility. Only a few traces of light streaked in from the outer walls and windows.

Cody signaled towards one of the massive computers near the door, and he and several clones attempted to push it in front of the door to create a barricade. The console wouldn't budge against their combined force.

Obi-Wan tried to ignite Anakin's lightsaber, but the blade fizzled and popped, and the spark of light abruptly died. He tried again and received no reaction. Of course Grievous would give him a broken weapon. He clipped it on his belt and used the Force instead, grappling at the inner workings of the console with his mind and shredding them apart. He pulled wires and screws, dislodging the console enough for the clones to move it. A weight settled over him from the intense focus. Cody and the others shoved the console over the door.

"We need to alert the Republic to what is going on here," Obi-Wan said. He folded his arms at his chest and ran a hand over his beard, and then he offered Cody a look of apology as he and the other clones stared at him in expectation. Obi-Wan was neither a general nor a figure of authority at that point, and no one had any reason to listen to him. The fact that they did was a testament to their loyalty.

"Nothing works," said one of the men, and he waved his hand into the darkness. "We can't even redirect power if there's no source to begin with."

Obi-Wan again scratched at his beard. The ship that crashed into the other building had flashing lights, fully suggestive of an operational power source.

"If I may?"

"By all means," answered Cody.

"We need to get to the vessel that crashed," Obi-Wan said. "The communication systems may still be operational. Is anyone able to lead us there without taking us back outside in plain sight of the enemy?"

Several chuckles answered him.

"General, we could get you there blindfolded, concussed, and under the influence."

"This is our home."

Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile at the remarks.

Cody drew near, his scar visible in a shaft of light.

"Men, I want you to form up. Keep on each other and don't let anyone fall behind. Those who've had your control chips removed, stay around the General. The rest of you, take the lead and get us to that ship."

"Sir!" answered a chorus of clones. Footsteps thundered in reply as the men built a chain, one hand on the shoulder of the man ahead of him, and they moved as one.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the comment to place troopers around him who had the chips surgically removed. Cody said it so nonchalantly and the others acted so quickly on the command—defending their resident Jedi came second nature to them. Appreciation swelled in Obi-Wan's chest, but he brushed such thoughts aside and fell into line with them, Cody ahead of him and several men behind him.

As promised, the clones stormed through the facility without a single misstep, or so it seemed to Obi-Wan. Whoever took the lead paused at intersections for only a moment, as if assessing for danger and not considering his direction, and then proceeded at a steady pace. Obi-Wan followed, blind in the perpetual darkness with only the rare shaft of light breaking through windows in nearby rooms. The knot in his stomach lingered, but he had complete faith in the clones and their lead.

The men stopped their forward march, and metal grated on metal.

"Into the maintenance tunnels. They'll take us beneath and between buildings, and the clankers will be none the wiser," one of the lead clones called back.

Obi-Wan shuffled after Cody and the rest of the men into the tunnels, crawling for a while on hands and knees. Eventually they rose in darkness and were able to walk. Their footsteps and panting echoed off the metal and vibrated through the corridor.

Explosions shattered the tunnel in front of them and behind them, spilling light and rainwater over them. Fighters and vultures zipped overhead and dropped torpedoes and fired blasters on them.

"Move!" Obi-Wan shouted, but he didn't wait for their compliance. He hefted the clones up with the Force and threw them across the gaping hole in front of them, then leaped after them. "Go!"

Using the light behind them to guide their steps, they ran, the leaders of the group decisively rounding another corner. The rest had just turned when another explosion rocked the corridors behind them. Obi-Wan glanced back and caught a glimpse of the tower of a building, and he made it out to be the facility from which they'd departed. They had to be near their destination.

"Keep moving, men!" someone called out. "Go, go!"

The man in the lead led them through a small opening into a spacious but pitch-black room. As the last two men climbed out of the maintenance tunnel, the entire shaft exploded and took them down in a wall of flames. Light and rain poured in and revealed vultures circling, fully aware of their location.

"Go!" Cody ordered, and he led the way through a research lab filled with dead computer screens and ominous experiment tables.

The group dashed after him and to a turbolift that, like everything else in the facility, was completely dead. Through the glass case surrounding the lift on every side, blaster fire rained down on the dome of the building. Half propped above them and precariously balanced on the tip of the tower was the battered transport carrier. Its flames still lapped at the wet sky. As if the weather sensed their mood, lightning licked the clouds and thunder rumbled in reply.

Cody presented his grappling hook, aimed straight up, and fired. The hook and cable launched with a hiss. Then he grinned at the others and gave a tiny shrug.

"Guess sometimes good old-fashioned technology comes in handy after all." Then, he vaulted himself upwards.

All of his men followed.

Obi-Wan had relinquished his lightsaber to the Order but nothing else. He used his own basic grappling hook and ascended the shaft after the army of clone troopers. A few torpedoes rocked the tower and sent two men plummeting. Two others went down to retrieve them. The rest continued on, bounding up as quickly as they could. Thankfully, the entire tower didn't come down on them.

Their ascent ended abruptly at the ship that demolished the top of the tower and the turbolift shaft. A hunk of twisted metal blocked their path.

Obi-Wan dropped to the nearest opening a torpedo had blasted for them and slid through the shattered transparisteel to the metal framework on the outside of the tower. Cody and the clones followed.

"How generous of them to open the door for us," Obi-Wan commented, and he glared at a half dozen fighters zipping past.

In haste, he and the others turned their grappling hooks to the outside of the tower and climbed into the battered remains of the ship. Blaster fire took out several of the cables and sent men plummeting to their deaths. A torpedo blew a hunk of the battered ship apart and spewed molten slivers of metal into the air. Obi-Wan and the remaining clones pressed on until they climbed through yet another hole conveniently provided by their enemies into the transport carrier.

And there, they all stopped.

Clones covered the floor of the ship from front to back in every direction. Blasters lay scattered around the bodies, and traces of blaster fire marred the white armor of the troopers, the walls, computer consoles—everything. Countless battle droids filled the gaps between fallen clones. The ship had been a warzone before it crashed. A moment of respectful silence passed between them.

Lights continued to flash throughout the ship, a sure sign the ship still had power. Hopefully the communications center would remain stable and active.

"Keep moving," Cody said, and he slid down the slanted corridor towards the bridge of the ship.

Obi-Wan and the others followed. They came up near the escape pods, all of which were still intact, and reached the bridge. The entire ship tilted in their favor and hastened their steps. The bridge of the ship was as much a massacre as anywhere else. To Obi-Wan's utter frustration, the entire bridge was dark save the dull gray light pouring through the water-streaked viewport.

Obi-Wan went straight to the communications panel. He flipped several switches and pushed a few buttons, then leaned with both hands on the computer. He huffed.

"Dead."

Throughout the bridge, clones pushed buttons and cast him grim glances.

"There must still be power in the ship," Cody said, and he leaned out the bridge doorway. Red warning lights flashed across his face. "My guess is the crash knocked out one of the relays or reactors. We should be able to divert power here, but we'd have to do it from the control room."

Obi-Wan gave a nod.

"Do it—we must send that message. They need to know what's happened here."

"Those of you with control chips, with me!" Cody flagged down half the men and slid out the door, making the climb back up the corridor from which they'd arrived. "The rest of you, stay with the General!"

Obi-Wan's lip quirked up into a half grin. He'd be a general until death, apparently.

Half the group broke off and ascended the ship. The clones that remained with Obi-Wan dropped their malfunctioning blasters and picked up the blasters of their comrades on the ground. One of the men fired at the ceiling, and a blue bolt slammed into the metal with a hiss. Armed, they gathered at the door and beyond into the corridor and stood guard.

Obi-Wan waited at the console. It was one of their vessels and should have open channels to nearby Republic vessels and facilities. If he couldn't reach them, he'd use the few channels he knew specifically to reach out to nearby Jedi and the Temple itself.

The entire bridge flickered to life, and the clones in the doorway shouted in triumph. Obi-Wan exhaled a breath of relief and plucked away, adjusting the computer's frequencies to connect it to any familiar receiving line. Static answered regardless of what he entered. He pushed the signal out to any surrounding Republic-friendly vessels.

"This is former Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said. "Do you read me? Is anyone there? Our vessels on Kamino are under attack and we require assistance." Static answered. He flipped to a Jedi-specific frequency. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Kamino has been attacked. Grievous is here attacking now and we require assistance. Do you hear me?" Blood-chilling static answered. Obi-Wan scrubbed his forehead and leaned heavy on the console. If those nearby could not perceive the signal, there was no way it would reach Coruscant. Instead, he opened the channel to all available frequencies. Grievous already knew they were there. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We require assistance on Kamino. The city is overthrown and Grievous is here. Send reinforcements at once!"

A pop and a fizzle answered him. A voice cracked over the comm, indiscernible, but at least the signal had gone out. It gurgled at him and then returned to static. Several of the clones cheered, and then they screamed as lightsabers cut several of them down. Obi-Wan jumped back and reached for his lightsaber, only to remember Anakin's broken weapon hung at his side instead of his own. Blasters fired in rapid succession, but blue and green lightsabers spun in a whirring cyclone and ripped through them with ease.

The twisting blades severed several of the metal frames holding the ship together, and the bridge tore away from the rest of the ship as the massive vessel split in half. Clones fell to their likely deaths into the space between the two halves of the transport vessel. Obi-Wan staggered backwards into a seat and watched as the sky opened up over his head, the viewport behind him nearly pointed straight down at the building below. The other half of the ship loomed over them, gaping wide open and spitting sparks into the pouring rain.

Standing on the shattered framework at the top end of the bridge was Grievous.


	14. Darth Vader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, SO MUCH, for the continued support!! I appreciate all of you beyond words~ I loved writing this story, but it's dang fun experiencing it with someone else, too. You guys are awesome!

Grievous whirled four lightsabers in the air like the whirring blades of a colorful fan. Beside him, the communications console buzzed to life, and a different voice spoke over the open channel, but again it was indiscernible beneath the static.

"A moment too late, Grievous," Obi-Wan said, and he forced a confident grin in the hopes Grievous wouldn't see through his bluster. Grievous fleeing might be the only thing that saved any remaining clones. "Reinforcements are on their way."

Grievous slashed one of his lightsabers through the communications console. It exploded, and all of the static and lights abruptly died. He brought the lightsaber back to himself, whirled all four in one last rotation, and then stood still.

"Yes," Grievous replied, and there was something airy, almost gleeful, to his tone. "They are."

The droid general lunged across the bridge at Obi-Wan and swung his lightsabers in a brilliant and colorful whirlwind. Obi-Wan rolled out of the seat moments before it split in half. He grabbed one of the halves with the Force and flung it at Grievous' head, but the half-droid cut it out of the air. Obi-Wan took the momentary delay and snatched a blaster from a fallen clone and flipped towards the viewport, putting distance between himself and his enemy. He watched the blur of lightsabers and fired in the space between. Grievous stopped his theatrics to deflect the shots.

Crouching, Obi-Wan collected another blaster and opened fire with both, but Grievous marched forward against the barrage, all four lightsabers expertly repelling the bolts. One of the beams fired back, and Obi-Wan dodged left to avoid it, only to be hit by another in the right forearm. His muscles twisted as the bolt tore through, and the blaster dropped out of his curling fingers.

Grievous continued his march towards him. Obi-Wan looked beyond him, to the destroyed frame of the ship, to the few sections still holding it together. He turned his blaster on a point of weakened metal and opened fire, burning through the frame. Grievous dove at him with a wild and triumphant roar, but Obi-Wan grabbed the frayed metal with the Force and tore it apart.

The ship lurched beneath them and tipped further into the dome roof, and it stood perfectly vertical, with the building straight down and the sky straight up. Metal shrieked as it tore. Everything on the bridge rolled towards the viewport, including Grievous caught off guard. He disengaged his lightsabers and used his hands and feet to claw for purchase. Obi-Wan, having expected the shift of balance, jumped to the side of a computer, grabbed an entire console with the Force, and hurled it at Grievous. Grievous and the console flew into the viewport. The transparisteel shattered from the preexisting structural damage coupled with Grievous and the plummeting metal console.

Grievous rolled out onto the front of the ship but found easy handholds amidst torn sheets of metal. He crawled towards the shattered viewport, and Obi-Wan had half plucked another console from the floor before Grievous stopped, looked to the sky, and unleashed a quiet, rippling, but painfully audible laugh. The droid general let go and plummeted towards the building below, and he vanished around the curve of the ship.

A flood of darkness rolled over Obi-Wan and crushed him under an invisible but entirely tangible weight. The air smothered him and took the air out of his lungs. The hairs on his neck and arms stood, and he turned at the presence of another.

Sidious stood at the top edge of the bridge and sneered down his narrow nose at Obi-Wan. His billowing cloak swirled around him in the wind and rain, covering him in a moving shadow. His thin, pale lips twisted in a smile.

"How are you…" Obi-Wan choked on the rest of his words. He shuffled to a more secure foothold on the broad computer console that now served as a platform. Rainwater slickened it.

"Alive? I wonder," Sidious said. The grin stretched across his face. "It is as though I knew all along exactly what you intended to do."

A chill swept through Obi-Wan. He'd wondered at it. Everything from the battle on Coruscant had felt too intentional. Looking at the past and the future, everything _had_ been intentional.

"Now you understand," Sidious said. "For the Jedi, the future is always in motion. But I own the future. It twists and turns exactly as I demand. You are all just insignificant pieces of the game that I play." His smile diminished, overcome by the intentional glare of a predator hunting his prey. "Though I will admit your existence has been somewhat of a detriment. You have managed to keep one fragment of light alive that should otherwise have been easy to snuff out."

"What are you—"

"Young Skywalker never had a chance," Sidious said, and he paced a slight track on his high ledge. "I didn't even have to try, and you and yours so willingly handed him over to me. Handed me his hope, his innocence, his compassion… You delivered him to me perfectly trained and terrifically broken. How easy it was to meddle in his confused little head, what with your kind's illogical and impractical advice. Did you not see him dying on the inside?" In a soothing tone, sickly sweet, he said, "How did you fail to see his suffering?"

Obi-Wan shuddered. His future self had asked himself the same questions hundreds of times. To hear them spoken by Sidious, to hear them said aloud by his enemy, made them that much more significant.

"And to think," Sidious said, his face twisting into a knot of pale wrinkles, "that all young Skywalker ever wanted was to make you proud, to know that you accepted him."

"Of course I accepted him—of course he knew," Obi-Wan said.

"Did he?" Sidious' smile faded. It wasn't a jeer, it wasn't a taunt; it was a legitimate question. His head tilted, and the grin slithered back onto his wretched face. "Because from the very start, all your precious Padawan knew was that you didn't want him. Your vow to your dead master bound you to him against your wishes."

"You…" Obi-Wan's heart stuttered, and he grabbed at his chest. His lungs twisted and air refused to reach him.

"Certainly you grew to love him," Sidious said, slow, calculated. "And him to love you. But in those first few months and years, how easy it was…" Extending his fingers, he dug into the air as if clawing his way through soil from the grave. "…to grab those little insecurities and twist, and pull, and grow them until they became a relentless monster eating away at his core. Until all parts of your beloved Anakin Skywalker died."

Obi-Wan's foot slid forward, but he had no weapon, and Sidious had the tactical advantage. And Force lightning. He could do little to harm the Sith Lord from his precariously helpless position. He could always rip the entire ship down on them both, but somehow he doubted it would kill the treacherous former Chancellor.

Obi-Wan scanned the floor for additional weapons, only one blaster still in hand, but they'd all tumbled to the shattered viewport as the ship tipped. They lay mostly buried in the bodies that had rolled with them.

"You had your moment, and you failed," Sidious continued, and Obi-Wan watched him in expectation of an attack. But Sidious only smiled again, intentional. Goading. He hopped off his high platform and landed on a computer console just above Obi-Wan. Fearless. "You had your chance, and you walked away on a beach on Mustafar, and you let the light die."

Another wave of shivers swept up Obi-Wan's spine as he recalled leaving Anakin to burn. He'd often wondered if he had stayed, if he had shown Anakin mercy, would he have returned to the light? Did Obi-Wan's departure push his young friend deeper into darkness to the point of no return for the next two decades?

"I have seen the future, and it is inevitable." Sidious jumped from his console to Obi-Wan's, and the ship shuddered as he landed.

Obi-Wan fired the blaster, but Sidious flicked it out of his hand with the Force. The two both attempted to push the other with the Force, minds and bodies locked in a frozen struggle, and then Obi-Wan staggered back.

"Your death will sever the final thread." A wicked grin tore across Sidious' face. "There is nothing you can do. I want you to let that sink in."

And then, Sidious turned and looked up, and Obi-Wan followed his gaze with an icy sense of trepidation and horror clawing into existence in his chest.

A suit of polished black armor stood on the edge of the back half of the ship high above them. The black helmeted face stared down at them. Frozen save the cloak at its back that whirled in the wind. A memory out of Obi-Wan's nightmares—the symbol of all he had lost, the death of all he had loved.

Darth Vader.

"If only you had reached out a hand to him," said Sidious, almost sympathetically. The old man turned and faced Obi-Wan, and legitimate grief marred his face—as legitimate as could be had from the mastermind. Their eyes met, and pleasure leaped through Sidious' eyes and betrayed his sympathetic tone. "But you rejected him again, didn't you?"

Obi-Wan grabbed all of the remaining seats out of the floor and hurled them at Sidious in a violent barrage. Sidious deflected them with the subtle wave of his hand, and then he thrust out his other hand and caught Obi-Wan's throat in an unrelenting vise grip. Sidious lifted Obi-Wan with nary a struggle, despite every effort Obi-Wan made to break the grip. His feet kicked in open air. Sidious' choke crushed Obi-Wan's throat, and pressure built in his head.

"His attachment to you kept him bound to the light for far too long. And now you have played your role magnificently—not just one rejection, but two." Sidious squeezed his hand into a fist, and Obi-Wan's neck bent under the additional pressure.

Obi-Wan tried to produce sound but couldn't. He clawed at the invisible hands at his neck to no avail. He kicked at nothing. Life ebbed out of him, and darkness crawled from the corners of his vision and consumed him.

"Now it is my time," Sidious said, and he drew and ignited his blazing red lightsaber. "Die, Kenobi." The lightsaber moved in a flash within Obi-Wan's fading vision.

And then Obi-Wan dropped to the wet console and landed hard on his back. An influx of air to his lungs brought back some semblance of clarity to his vision.

Over him, Vader grappled with Sidious and pushed him back, pushed him away from Obi-Wan.

"What are you—" Sidious bellowed, surprise marring his face, obvious from his wide and wild eyes.

Vader and Sidious twisted in a whirlwind of black, and then Sidious aimed his lightsaber at Obi-Wan. Whatever he intended to do with it came to naught. Vader slammed his massive bulk against Sidious to deflect the blade, but Sidious brought the lightsaber down instead and cut through Vader's right arm—above the metal, above where flesh and metal combined. Obi-Wan stared in horror as the arm fell away, burned.

Vader roared in a deep, inhuman voice, flung himself at Sidious, and hoisted the smaller man onto his shoulder like a sack of flour. The lightsaber dropped, and Obi-Wan caught it in the air and drew it to himself.

"You fool!" Sidious screamed, and he slapped his hand on Vader's helmet and unleashed Force lightning upon him that swirled around the both of them.

Despite the lightning, just as he had in the future, Vader marched with Sidious and slammed him against the nearest wall. He pinned him not with a Force choke but instead with his last remaining hand. Sidious continued to pour lightning through him, but Vader held his ground. Obi-Wan struggled to his feet and moved towards them, the red lightsaber ignited in his hand.

Sidious must have seen him coming. He waved a hand towards the top of the ship, and the bridge ripped apart from the rest of the vessel, all of the last remaining supports severed, and plummeted. All of them flew away from each other as the ship slipped beneath them. Obi-Wan let go of the lightsaber and caught the railing with both hands and braced his feet against the wall of the ship so that he could jump if he needed. Sidious caught beneath a twisted computer console where a chair used to park, holding him in place. Vader tumbled and rolled like one of the many corpses—Obi-Wan snagged him with the Force. He tucked him in a corner, the safest place he could put him before the ship crashed through the building beneath it and crumpled straight through the floor.

Water rushed in from the viewport along with sheets of metal and floating corpses. Obi-Wan swung up onto the railing and Force leaped higher into the ship, away from the rapidly rising water. He pulled Vader with him, but Vader thrashed against his grip with the Force and then his hands when he reached him. The black suit of armor roared at him, clawed at him with his one hand, and then clawed at his own mask.

Sidious lashed at them with Force lightning but stopped when the ship lurched again and he lost his footing. He nearly toppled into the water.

A booming voice rang out on a loud speaker that surely covered every inch of the city.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi!" Obi-Wan recognized the voice of Plo Koon. "Grievous' troops are in retreat. We are coming in!"

Metal clattered on metal high above them, the sounds of hundreds of feet stampeding along floors.

Sidious glared one last time at them, and then he kicked out a chunk of already shattered viewport directly beside him. He threw himself through it and vanished on the other side.

Obi-Wan clawed his way up to the top of the ship and onto a somewhat stable structure. The ship and the building had merged into one, and it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended in the endless twisting maze of metal. He grabbed Vader with the Force and pulled him up, then continued his own climb. Above, clones and Jedi cut through the metal bars to reach them. Streaks of light and rainwater broke through from endless holes torn through the walls.

Obi-Wan pulled Vader up alongside him, but the suit of black armor continued to struggle. The Force lightning had shot straight into him, a steady stream of it, and should have been strong enough to kill. And with the loss of the arm, he'd be in a poor state. Obi-Wan grabbed at the broad shoulders of the armor to try to still him, but Vader thrashed, clawing at his helmet with his hand.

"Take it off!" Vader screamed, over and over again.

Obi-Wan grabbed at the mask and tried to unfasten it, but it was held fast, and Vader's flailing did nothing to help him get a better grip.

"Hold still!" he ordered, but the other did not listen or hear him. At last Vader clasped at Obi-Wan instead, grabbing at his tunic, his sleeves, anything he could hold. The baritone screams continued.

"General!" Cody dove down along with Plo, Aayla, and at least fifty other clones.

Several hands grabbed at Obi-Wan and drew him back. From anyone else's perspective, it must have looked as though Vader wrestled with Obi-Wan in an attempt to harm him. Obi-Wan let himself be pulled away but stared as the black suit of armor writhed on the ground.

"General, are you all right?" someone asked.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan stared in disbelief at the shape of Darth Vader, one arm gone, clones swarming around him with blasters aimed and ready to fire.

It was not hate or anger that Obi-Wan felt stirring within the heart of that black suit of armor—it was agonizing, paralyzing fear.

"Let me go," Obi-Wan said to whoever held him, and he pulled at his arms. They held him back. "Let me go!" He broke free and returned to the thrashing suit of armor. He pushed aside the clones with their blasters aimed. "Anakin, hold still!" Obi-Wan dug his fingers into the helmet and cut his skin on sharp metal, but he managed to find the latches that held it in place. He disengaged the locks and pulled the mask free.

The scent of death stung his nose as he removed the mask, and the face beneath was the face of a corpse. Eyes sunken, cheeks hollow, skin ashen instead of healthy tan: Anakin had become only a shadow of a man. Obi-Wan dropped the mask, and it clattered into the metal debris beneath them.

Soaked in sweat, Anakin's hair lay flat on his head and face. His eyes rolled back and his body seized, and yet he clawed with his one hand at the rest of his armor.

"Get it off," he muttered, and his voice was his—was Anakin's, no longer tainted by the mask. "Take it off!"

Obi-Wan held Anakin at the shoulders of the oversized armor, tried to hold him steady, but part of it was also to still his own shaking hands. Obi-Wan spun towards the others, and a rush of emotions choked his words as he barked at them.

"We need a medic! Now!"


	15. Glimmers of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you SO MUCH for your continued support. You guys are freakin' awesome and I appreciate you so hardcore! THANK YOU!!!!!!

Obi-Wan stood at the entrance to the Temple and watched the sky transition from gold to orange. Sunset was always beautiful at the Temple. In any given direction, the world shifted from silver to gold, as if for that fleeting moment everything became a treasure of immeasurable worth. Then the gold faded to a glittering display of bronze and rubies.

It had been a week since they'd returned to Coruscant, and he hadn't been allowed to check in on Anakin since they'd arrived at the Halls of Healing. Obi-Wan had his wounds treated, gathered a fresh change of clothes and his cloak, and then spent the remainder of his time waiting at Padmé's apartment. Waiting for what, he wasn't certain. He repaired and then left Anakin's lightsaber there. It felt right to leave it somewhere other than the Temple.

After seeing Anakin in such a dreadful state, Obi-Wan's mind had been sent reeling. The peace he'd acquired since the vision had fractured, and he struggled to find it again. Sidious' words did nothing to help.

_And now you have played your role magnificently—not just one rejection, but two._

His heart sank with the light. What role had he played in Anakin's suffering this time?

A familiar string of beeps drew his attention towards the large doors at the end of Processional Way. Obi-Wan half turned before R2 squealed at him belligerently, zoomed across the walkway, and slammed into his leg.

"Stop doing that," Obi-Wan snapped at the droid, and he stepped back and rubbed his leg. R2 beeped at him and then abruptly died, same as it had the last time. "Oh, come now. Being a little dramatic, aren't you?"

"Obi-Wan!" Padmé followed R2's path out of the Temple and onto the walkway. She supported her stomach with both hands, a bright rosy glow to her cheeks only accented by the crimson red of the watercolor sky. "Obi-Wan, is it true? Is Anakin all right?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, but he frowned at her. "Are you all right?" Even though her pace had been slow, she panted for air and sagged under an oppressive weight.

"Yes, yes." She waved her hand dismissively and then placed it on R2. "They haven't let me see him. They're afraid how he might respond. What does that mean? Is he okay? Did something happen?"

Obi-Wan searched her face and then her shoulders hanging low from the invisible burden of concern for her husband. He managed a smile.

"He's all right, Padmé. He hasn't fallen. He's still with us." Though if the wraith of a man Anakin had become did not respond positively to treatment, things could take a turn. How he wished they'd let him see him, to see his progress. But attachments were lethal to the Jedi—could be lethal. And yet…

_His attachment to you kept him bound to the light for far too long._

Obi-Wan stiffened when Padmé let out a puff of air and leaned forward, her face twisting in a frown.

"Are you all right?" He took her arm and supported her, and she pushed her weight against his side. One hand she set on his shoulder, the other held her belly.

"I thought so. I've felt a little pain, but they said that might happen. But now—ah!" Padmé grimaced and folded in on herself. Obi-Wan caught and held her, and she fastened her hands on his arms in a steely grip.

"Padmé, I think the babies might be coming," he said, gingerly, as if not quite certain how she'd respond.

Padmé offered a tiny smile, and sweat shone on her brow.

"I think you might be right."

R2 screamed, burst to life, and zigzagged to the Temple door, squealing and beeping the entire way. Padmé chuckled but remained hunched over, heavy on Obi-Wan. He led her inside, trailing R2, and once through the doors, Obi-Wan called to the nearest Jedi, "She needs to be taken to the Halls of Healing right away!"

The Jedi used her comlink to call for aid before rushing to help them. She half took Padmé from Obi-Wan as if to take her to the Halls herself.

"What?" Padmé's face snapped in Obi-Wan's direction, and she stared at him in horror. Her cheeks were flushed but the rest of her face paled. "You need to come with me. You were there—you need to be there."

"Padmé," Obi-Wan started to say, but he had no argument to give other than that he no longer belonged here. Neither did she, so the argument was irrelevant. He nodded, and they supported her halfway to the Halls of Healing before several healers and droids came to their aid.

\-----

The birth of the twins was attended by several Jedi healers and medical droids, plus Obi-Wan. A bit livelier than the future had been. Obi-Wan hoped it would make a difference, that things would play out differently. Just as they'd seen in the future, Obi-Wan received Luke moments before Leia arrived. Padmé looked on in love at both children and declared their names. She was drenched in sweat, breathless and gasping, but she reached out and caressed the face of each child as they were shown to her.

"How are they?" Obi-Wan asked Chief Healer Vokara Che, who attended to the little ones.

"Healthy and strong," she replied, passing him a glance.

When they were taken away to be cleaned, Padmé exhaled a long breath and turned her head to the side, as if the life went out of her.

"And Padmé?" Obi-Wan could not conceal the sudden concern in his voice.

"Well." This time, Master Che smiled, though it was fleeting. "She is fine."

Padmé shifted again. Alive and well. Her eyes shone and her cheeks glowed. Even as she unleashed a heavy sigh, she smiled when she looked at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sank on his stool. He smiled in return, and a weight on his shoulders suddenly lifted. How different this future had the potential to be.

Afterwards, a whirlwind of activity erupted around them. The twins were cleaned and given to Padmé, who treasured them for as long as she was allowed, until droids and healers ordered her to rest. Then Obi-Wan somehow received both children as he sat quietly in a chair in the corner. The two little bundles wriggled in his arms awaiting someone to take them away again. But for a moment, they were his to protect and to cherish.

Obi-Wan's grin grew. He couldn't help it. Luke dozed peacefully, but Leia wrestled in her blanket, her little fists already shaking at the world. Twins, but already radically different.

Two different sides of Anakin reflected in two tiny bodies. Fiery passion for justice and indelible faith in others. Warrior and lover. If things had happened differently in another life, Anakin would have seen some of his best and worst in both of them, as all parents likely would at some point. He'd be exasperated about it, wondering how in the world his children could be so unruly. How pleasant it would be to watch Anakin suffer the innocent rebellion of his children after Obi-Wan spent over ten years suffering the same with Anakin. How right that world would be.

And it still could be.

Droids came to take away the children, and Obi-Wan relinquished them to their care. Padmé slept, alive and well. Everything could change—everything could be different this time.

An explosion obliterated his fantastical thoughts and drew him back to reality. The walls rumbled and the ground gave a slight shudder. Obi-Wan felt the disturbance in the Force. An oppressive grip strangled him. He rose at once, and Padmé stirred from the commotion.

"Obi-Wan?" she asked, her voice scratchy and quiet.

"Stay here."

Obi-Wan exited the room. Several healers ran down the corridor to one of the vast rooms filled with bacta tanks. He followed them and the shuddering Force. He stood in the doorway of the room to find several of the bacta tanks shattered, their fluids spilled on the floor.

Anakin sprawled in puddles of bacta and clawed at the breathing mask half attached to his face. He writhed the same as he had in the black suit of armor, his body twisted and contorted on the floor, and his eyes rolled back. He let out a muted cry as though in the throes of death, and his fingers dug into the shards on the floor. His mechno-arm had been restored and seemed to be functioning properly, though he'd lost another small portion of his flesh and bone. As he twisted, the shards on the floor cut his skin. Ribbons of blood spread out from him.

Healers gathered in the room along with several Knights with lightsabers in hand. Master Che knelt at Anakin's side and tried to catch his shoulder and limbs, but he thrashed out of her grip and away from her healing touch.

"Be still, Anakin," she said.

"Take it off," he muttered, and he ripped the mask off his face and threw it aside. "Let me go!"

Another pulse shot from him that shook the walls and shattered the remaining bacta tanks in the room, spilling their liquid contents. Master Che and several other healers meditated over him, trying to put him in a trance, and several droids tried to sedate him, but Anakin lashed out and resisted. His eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolled back, and he tore at his own face and skin. He screamed through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body taut and strained. Several healers grabbed at him, but he threw them away with a violent Force push.

Obi-Wan stared, paralyzed. After a week with the healers, he'd expected to see improvement. He saw none. Anakin was a living corpse. His skin clung to bone, all traces of muscle and healthy fat depleted or erased. Sunken eyes and cheeks. Purple and green bruises mottled his otherwise pale skin. Soaked in bacta, his usually wispy hair plastered his face and head. Anakin screamed, and the walls shook. People spoke over him and around him, but no one spoke _to_ him, and likewise he did not respond.

The future had the potential to change for the worse, but also for the better. Sidious had expected Anakin to fall on Kamino and had been legitimately surprised when he resisted. Whatever future Sidious insisted he saw was still not set in stone. Whatever darkness he saw was not for certain. But they had to do better this time.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and he stepped into the room.

A few of the med droids ordered him away, but he pushed past, and the Jedi did not stop him, so the droids gave up the fight. He knelt beside Anakin and caught his former Padawan's shoulders to steady him on the ground. Searing heat burned through Anakin's skin to Obi-Wan's hands and made him grimace.

"Anakin, listen to me," he said, and he flinched when he became painfully aware that his bond with Anakin still remained nonexistent. Whatever had severed it at the reactor, if not death, still remained in effect. Perhaps it was Anakin himself who shut him out. Regardless, Obi-Wan could not reach him. "Anakin!" When his young friend still did not respond, seizing on the floor with eyes rolling back, Obi-Wan looked to Master Che. "What has happened to him?"

"It appears he underwent a significant amount of torture," she said carefully, but Obi-Wan steeled his face and gave no reaction to the word. _Torture_. Her face tightened, and she frowned over Anakin's emaciated form. "We cannot successfully put him in a trace, he doesn't respond to sedation, and so we have had a poor time healing him. We thought for a moment we could get him into a bacta tank, but then…" She waved her hand about the room, and then she shook her head. "We cannot heal him if he will not allow it."

Obi-Wan cringed and returned his gaze to his former Padawan, to the young man he loved as a brother. Anakin had tried to crush himself in one of the detention rooms, had sacrificed himself at the reactor, and nearly destroyed himself in an attempt to stop Sidious. He did not want to live, that much was obvious. Yet the Force, as always, deemed Anakin a necessity and persisted in keeping him alive. As always, just barely.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, firmer than before, and he slipped an arm under Anakin's head and drew his thrashing, gaunt friend close, securing him with both arms. Anakin gave no indication he felt his presence or heard him. "Anakin, I need you to listen to me. Please hear my voice." Still nothing, so Obi-Wan shouted, "Anakin!"

Anakin's entire body jerked as if hit by Force lightning, and then he stilled, and his eyes rolled straight. Unfocused, but he found Obi-Wan. He reached with his flesh hand and grabbed at Obi-Wan's sleeve.

"It is all right," Obi-Wan told him, softly, and Anakin stared at him, lips parted, stunned. "You are safe at the Temple, and the healers are trying to look after you. I need you to be still. Please."

Anakin continued to stare. After a moment, tears wet his eyes and his lower lip quivered—he used to make that face often as a small boy, but he learned quickly to conceal it behind a mask. Not so this time. His face crumpled and he let out a quiet and pitiful sob.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his grip on Obi-Wan's sleeve tightened. "I'm so sorry, Master."

Obi-Wan did not want to discourage him from speaking, so he resisted the urge to quiet him. Instead, he brushed a wet clump of hair away from Anakin's eyes and fixed his grip on him, keeping him secure and comfortable. Anakin was nothing but bone, and even holding him was excruciating. The heat of his fever was equally as unbearable, but Obi-Wan did not let him go.

"I'm sorry," Anakin said again, and he allowed his head to rest on Obi-Wan's arm, face turned inward to hide in the folds of Obi-Wan's cloak.

Meanwhile, Master Che and the others worked hard at administering what may have been their first successful round of treatment, healing his scratches from the broken bacta tanks. One of the droids pressed a hypo against Anakin's arm, which emitted a click. Anakin shivered but remained quiet.

A ripple of worry in the Force drew Obi-Wan's attention up. Padmé stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame. R2 crept up behind her, blinking but offering only a few, muted beeps. Several young healers requested Padmé return to bed and hovered around her in concern, but she ignored them. She stayed wholly focused on Anakin, her eyes running over him, and then she set her head against the doorframe and allowed tears to spill down her cheeks.

Wearing only her recovery gown, barefoot, hair disassembled, she looked so young, as young as when they'd first met all those years ago. She _was_ young, over a decade younger than Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan allowed his gaze to fall back to Anakin. And Anakin was younger still, little more than a boy at 22.

"I hope you have nothing planned for the next few weeks, Kenobi," Master Che said with a hint of amusement in her tone. Curious, coming from her. "It seems you will have to be present in order for us to administer treatment."

Obi-Wan offered a faint chuckle and a limp smile, and then his eyes returned to Anakin. His former Padawan breathed easy then, eyes closed, as if he'd fallen asleep. Seeing as much gave Obi-Wan his peace back. One look, one fleeting belief that Anakin might be okay, calmed Obi-Wan's mind, unraveled the knot in his stomach, and firmed his resolve. If it took weeks at Anakin's side to see his friend—his brother—well again, Obi-Wan would do it without hesitation. Weeks, months, whatever it took.

He would not lose Anakin again. He would do better this time.

\-----

Obi-Wan stepped into the High Council chamber the next morning, the sun's rays streaking the sky with brilliant, near-white gold. All members were present, as he'd requested, and nearly all chairs occupied. He glanced at his own, but did not feel its loss. His decision remained right—at least in that moment. He had meditated through the night, and he was more certain of his decisions than he ever had been about anything during the war.

"You had a request," Master Windu said, inviting him to speak with the slight wave of his hand.

"I intend to go into exile on Tatooine," Obi-Wan declared, and he folded his hands behind his back and stood straight.

He eyed each of the Council members individually, and then at last he set his eyes on Master Yoda. To his surprise, the Grandmaster smiled and had a slight twinkle in his eyes—as if he knew.

With complete confidence and no hesitation, Obi-Wan added, "And I would like to take Anakin with me."


	16. Exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends, thank you SO MUCH for your continued support. Seriously, you fill my heart with such happiness. Adventures are so much better when they're experienced with others, so I'm happy to have you along for this ride with me~ THANK YOU!!!

Four Jedi Knights escorted Anakin to the High Council chamber, two in front of him and two behind. He still wore only linen tunic and trousers, standard in the Halls of Healing, and he walked with a limp. The metal and tile floors stabbed his bare feet with icy daggers and sent chills through him with every step. Every inch of him hurt even though he had no visible wounds.

His head throbbed and his vision swam. Though they were not constant, violent visions continued to play in the far recesses of his mind. Sometimes they would jump to the forefront and overwhelm reality, causing him to stagger or forcing him to stop altogether, but then he kept moving, kept walking. The few times when he stopped to brace himself on the wall as the visions overwhelmed him, the Jedi urged him forward.

His suffering was irrelevant to them because he himself caused it. He knew that full well.

They reached the chamber, and Anakin was permitted entrance while his four escorts departed after he stepped inside. Obi-Wan stood to the left of the center of the room, his hands folded in front of him, lost in the folds of his robes. He stared at the tiles on the floor and did not acknowledge Anakin's presence. Anakin blinked at him, scanned the room, then stood in the center of the circle and also cast his gaze to the floor. His shoulders slumped, oppressive exhaustion crushing him under its enormous weight.

Warm light spilled in—it had to have been late afternoon. Anakin had no idea how much time had passed since the vision, since his time with Sidious, only that the galaxy continued on perfectly well without him.

"Much has happened in the last several weeks," Master Windu said, and he started slowly, carefully. His robes rustled as he shifted, but Anakin didn't look up to catch the gesture. "Tell me, young Skywalker. If you were in a precarious position such as ours, what would you do?" His robes rustled again, and his voice sank a level. "What would you do _with you_ , specifically?"

Anakin stared at the leaf patterns on the floor under his feet. They were asking him to decide his fate? Would they go through with his decision if he gave it? He couldn't imagine they would.

"You already know what I would do," he said, his voice faint even to his own ears. He didn't sound like himself, but at least he didn't sound like Darth Vader, either. The voice echoed in his memory and sent another wave of chills shuddering up his spine. "I would execute me."

No one spoke. No one made a sound. The visions in Anakin's head came forward and grew louder in the endless silence, and he flinched against them and swallowed hard.

"You would have us execute you for something yet to be done?" asked Master Windu, but no surprise colored his tone.

"You know that I will. You cannot change who I am anymore now than you thought you could when I was nine years old." Anakin remembered that rejection, the strange feeling of being denied before they'd even known him. He didn't understand the Force then, but now he did. Now he understood their concern. His head and shoulders sank. "I am a monster and should be dealt with as such."

Silence prevailed once more in that dismal, hollow room. The Masters listened, watched, scrutinized him, and yet didn't pass judgment. If only they would.

"We will do nothing of the sort," Master Windu said, and again the fabric of his robes rustled as he moved. Anakin could not bring himself to look up. "We have other plans, and given the circumstances, we feel it in your best interest to comply." He took a breath, or paused to let the suggestion sink in. "We are sending you and Obi-Wan into exile on Tatooine."

Anakin's head flew up, and he met Master Windu's eyes despite his best attempts to avoid doing so. Images flickered through his head of severing the Jedi Master's hand, of leaving him defenseless against Sidious, of aiding in his murder. Anakin flinched against the images but kept his face up, kept focused. His head hurt, and he folded his hands into the sleeves of his tunic to keep them from shaking.

"You can't do that," he said, and he could not help the bitterness that rolled off his tongue. "You swore to me—you promised. Obi-Wan did nothing wrong. You cannot punish him for my mistakes."

The Council members stared at him, rigid and unwavering.

"A punishment, this is not," Master Yoda said. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes locked on Anakin, picking him apart.

Anakin shriveled under his gaze. Guilt crushed him, and if he hunched any further he would have folded at the waist.

"Yes, it is. You know that it is. I made the mistakes. I will go into exile on my own, I don't care." He shook his head at them and then waved his flesh hand in Obi-Wan's general direction. He still could not look at him. "But Obi-Wan needs to be here—he needs to help. You can't—"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, firm and steady. Anakin held his tongue. "It was my decision and my idea, not the Council's."

At that statement, Anakin half turned. His eyes rose from the floor for a second and made it about halfway to Obi-Wan's face before Anakin couldn't bear it. He cast his focus back to the tiles and turned away.

"But…" he said in a breath.

Terror clawed its way into his chest as memories of the future ran through his mind. He'd destroyed Obi-Wan's life once already, and he'd failed his former Master more times than he could count. He had made the Council promise not to punish him, and yet this was only that—a punishment. Anakin would not be the reason Obi-Wan's life was ruined a second time. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. No matter what he did, the Force insisted on twisting reality back into the horrific future they'd all seen.

Why did they see it if it could not be changed?

Tears burned behind Anakin's eyes. In his pathetic, emotional state, he opted to hold his tongue. He'd said enough, done enough, in carelessness to last this lifetime and more.

"We had hoped to give you further time for healing," Master Windu said, and softness touched his voice the same as it had when Anakin agreed to lure Sidious into a fatal trap, "but a freighter is leaving for the Outer Rim that was scheduled to depart before Sidious was revealed to us. It will be best to send you off discreetly."

"This is a mistake," Anakin said. He bowed and shook his head, but he was too tired to fight. If the Force wanted him to ruin everything, what was the point of resisting at all? He'd destroy Obi-Wan, Padmé, his children, the Jedi, the Republic, the galaxy, and then he'd die.

"Anakin Skywalker," Master Windu said, and Anakin looked at him—really looked at him. He saw no malice in him, no desire for vengeance over Anakin's wrongdoings. And why should he? Master Windu was the perfect Jedi. Calm and collected even though Anakin brought about his downfall. Master Windu continued, "Effective immediately, you are no longer a Jedi Knight of the Order. You are returned to your Master's care."

Obi-Wan closed the space between them and placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder. Anakin only had a chance to turn a foot when Master Windu spoke again with kindness resounding in his words.

"May the future… be different, and may the Force be with you."

Anakin held his tongue. The Force _was_ with him, and it tormented him. Perhaps because it had created him, made him to be a tool for good, and he instead used his strength for darkness and evil, for despair and destruction, for tearing down instead of building up. He should not despise the Force for trampling him, for serving him what he fully deserved.

"Let's go," Obi-Wan said, strangely impassive, but he kept a warm, steady hand on Anakin's shoulder.

Anakin didn't understand why, but he let that warm hand guide him out of the chamber. He accepted the consequences of his actions. He accepted he could never be a Jedi. But he could not accept this fate for Obi-Wan. Yet every time he opened his mouth to argue, the words died on his lips.

Obi-Wan deserved so much better, and Anakin would find a way to tell him that. At the very least, though, Anakin deserved exile. He deserved to be put where he could do no harm to anyone. Once he was safely put away, he would confront Obi-Wan. Convince him not to throw his life away by spending any more time of it on Anakin.

And so Anakin allowed himself to be shuffled along towards exile, all the while contemplating how best to permanently and safely remove Obi-Wan from his life. Every time he tried, though, horrific images of Mustafar seared his brain. Eventually, he succumbed to them and gave up trying to do anything.

\-----

Anakin only had time to change his clothes before he was whisked away to a freighter already supplied and ready to depart. He and Obi-Wan sat in a corner, side-by-side, tucked away from the crew and the busyness of ship life. Obi-Wan hadn't said a word to him since leaving the Temple, but Anakin hadn't said anything, either. They walked in silence, boarded in silence, and sat in silence.

As the ship departed, Coruscant sank into a blur of glittering gold. The sun set behind the skyline and turned the sky blood red. Visions of violence flashed through Anakin's mind, and he rubbed his brow and frowned against them. The sky faded into the haze between atmosphere and space, the in-between place where something became nothing. Their climb continued until they passed into pitch black. Even the stars seemed darker than usual.

"We have to speak at some point, Anakin," Obi-Wan finally said. He shifted in his chair and then swept a hand through his hair with a tired sigh. "Or this will be a very long and painfully mundane experience for both of us."

Anakin still couldn't look at him and instead stared out the small port window beside him. A few ships came and went from Coruscant, and it felt strangely good to leave the bustle behind. The frantic, busy running, the fighting, the endless struggle to achieve. It faded away into oblivion behind them as everything streaked white in a jump to lightspeed.

More and more visions of his future life vied for his attention. Anakin folded his arms, slumped in his seat, and bowed his head. He tried to will them away, to meditate, but they only grew stronger, louder. He rubbed his forehead and let them continue as they always did, and he hated himself the whole time.

Obi-Wan said nothing more.

\-----

Anakin and Obi-Wan arrived on Tatooine without event. Obi-Wan ushered Anakin to an awaiting speeder, and Anakin was intentionally sent to the passenger seat. Obi-Wan piloted them away from the settlement, across a rolling sea of golden-red sand, to the absolute middle of nowhere. Anakin had no idea where they were and didn't recognize anything, but he didn't spend too much time trying to know, either.

Obi-Wan drew the speeder up to a small hovel half-buried in sand, and nothing but endless desert stretched around the hovel in every direction. They weren't terribly far from the settlement where they'd landed but definitely far enough that no one would accidentally happen across them.

Obi-Wan led Anakin through the door of the hovel and went straight to the kitchen area, which consisted of a lone counter, a few ancient appliances, and a small table with two chairs.

"Well, here we are." He set down a few packs he'd brought and began putting supplies in cupboards and drawers. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll make something to eat."

Anakin finished his initial scan of the place in a matter of seconds. The hovel consisted of one main room and one side room, nothing more. Two sleep pallets were imbedded into opposite walls of a tiny alcove with barely a meter between them. A small open space separated the alcove from the kitchen. On the far side of the room, in its own little area, was the refresher. It didn't even have a door, only a curtain that partitioned it from the rest of the hovel.

It was a home made for one that had been crudely adjusted to fit two. Obi-Wan and the Jedi could have chosen differently, but this was intentional. Obi-Wan didn't trust leaving Anakin to his own devices, and that was well enough. Anakin didn't trust himself, either.

He wandered to one of the sleep pallets and sat on the edge, staring across to the other sleep pallet. He'd never be able to conceal his nightmares or lack of sleep here. Nothing he did or experienced would be secret for long. Surely that was the intention. He sighed and folded his hands between his knees and waited. He had nothing else to do anyway.

"Dinner is ready," Obi-Wan said after an unknown amount of time had passed. The warm sunlight through one of several windows in the hovel had the red glow of late afternoon.

"I'm not hungry." Anakin continued to stare at the pallet across from him while two decades of visions crowded his mind.

"You need to eat." Obi-Wan's tone left no room for negotiation, but Anakin couldn't move. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, and even the thought of food turned his stomach over. Obi-Wan added with finality, "Anakin."

Anakin sighed and went to the table without grabbing food. Obi-Wan provided him a bowl anyway. Despite the dry heat in the air, steam managed to roll off the yellowish broth full of vegetables. It had a salty scent with a bit of a spicy kick to it, but even the somewhat desirable fragrance turned Anakin's stomach. He stared at it as Obi-Wan sat across from him and ate his own meal.

Several long moments passed, Obi-Wan eating and Anakin slumping in his chair. It was all so foolish—the very fact they were there at all was absurd. The galaxy was in danger, Sidious ran amok, and the war continued to rage.

"Why are you doing this?" Anakin asked, the question barely making it from between his lips.

Obi-Wan took another scoop of his soup without pause.

"It's a well-known fact humans need external sources of nourishment. Therefore, I made food." He waved his metal spoon over his bowl and then continued eating.

"Your skills are wasted here."

"Would you rather I open a restaurant?" Obi-Wan ate without pause, expression and tone unchanging.

Anakin glared at him but hastily dropped his gaze before Obi-Wan could notice. Anger ignited in his chest, but he squelched it immediately. It wouldn't destroy him—no, it would destroy everything around him if he let it.

"You should be helping them stop Sidious. You should be winning the war while there's still a chance." Anakin sank in his seat and slid his arms into his sleeves. The metal of his mechno-arm chilled his skin and spread bumps over his arms. "Instead, you're wasting your time with me. You should be out there helping people who can still be saved."

Obi-Wan's spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl was the only answer Anakin received.

"May I be excused?" Anakin asked. He hadn't eaten, hadn't even touched his spoon, but he couldn't stand to be there anymore. Better to ask than to be yelled at for leaving the table without permission, though. Like a child.

"Fine," Obi-Wan said, and he dropped his spoon into his bowl, curiously loud, and sighed as he sank in his seat.

"The future can't be changed, Obi-Wan," Anakin told him as he rose from the table. The chair scraped across the uneven, clunky tiles of the floor. "Believe me, I've tried."

With that, Anakin went towards the sleep alcove. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but at least he wouldn't be expected to talk, to perform, to play human. He'd put the monster into a corner and stay there where he belonged.

"Padmé gave birth to the twins."

Obi-Wan's words froze Anakin in the empty space between the sleep alcove and the kitchen. Immediately he remembered her death, with only Obi-Wan and med-droids attending her. He remembered choking her directly before that and throwing her to the ground. Killing her. He had killed her. Tears sprang to his eyes.

"The twins are healthy and strong," Obi-Wan said. "Padmé is alive and well."

Anakin's heart stuttered. He glanced in Obi-Wan's direction, though not truly at him, and felt his mouth gaping, but could do nothing to close it. Padmé survived?

"In the future, she died because you chose the dark side," Obi-Wan said. He waved his hand about their hovel, and then at Anakin directly. "In this life, you chose differently." He pushed back his chair in a rush and began to clean the table. He tossed the dishes at the sink and ignored Anakin completely.

She survived. Anakin shuffled to the sleep alcove and all but fell onto the side of his pallet. He stared at the wall across from him. Padmé survived. His fall to the dark side killed her, but his rejection of her did not. That was proof enough. She was much safer without him, and that was okay. She would live, and she would raise the twins, and they would grow into the exceptional adults they could be because Anakin did not exist. Bail Organa could even visit Leia, maybe Padmé would send Leia to study in Alderaan and Luke to visit the Lars family…

In a world without Sidious, at least.

Visions drowned out Anakin's wishful thinking. Nightmares of Darth Vader, of an Empire founded on violence. And then a scene that didn't belong: Senator Organa, with young Leia in his arms, surrounded by clones, fleeing through a metal corridor. A brilliant white beam flashed through space and blasted through Alderaan. The metal walls around Bail and Leia exploded. They died instantly.


	17. Family in the Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing. Again and again and again, I thank you for your continued support. Thanks so much for reading!!

Several days of mostly awkward silence passed, and Anakin rarely dragged himself off his sleep pallet. He didn't sleep, or at least he wasn't aware of it if he did. Every moment, awake or asleep, was spent reliving his nightmares: his mother's death, his future as Darth Vader, and now the strange image of Bail and Leia dying in an explosion.

If Obi-Wan was aware of Anakin's lack of sleep, and Anakin assumed he was since they slept barely a meter apart, he never made mention of it.

And though Obi-Wan tried several times to compel him, Anakin couldn't be bothered to eat. His stomach felt dead in his body and nothing appealed to him. It wasn't that he was actively trying to destroy himself, for he assumed that's what Obi-Wan thought, but it simply felt too hard to try. Obi-Wan bringing water to him was about the only thing that kept him alive. Anakin had learned quickly his former Master was not playing games—the first glass of water Anakin rejected got dumped on his head. He did not decline another.

Anakin's entire body ached. Occasionally, Obi-Wan touched his forehead with a strangely cool hand. He frowned and sighed every time, and Anakin assumed the cool hand and the reaction indicated a fever on his part. Whatever Sidious and his minions had done to him left a lasting mark.

Then, out of nowhere, Obi-Wan ordered him out of bed and to get dressed. His stern tone left no room for negotiation, and Anakin couldn't be bothered to argue. He rolled off his pallet, dressed, and trailed behind Obi-Wan to the speeder like a mindless droid. No, like a child. Even then, he simply couldn't bring himself to care.

Obi-Wan drove them across an endless expanse of desert and passed over several rolling hills. As they came over one last hill, Anakin squinted against the suns at a distant splotch of cultivated land and housing. As they drew closer, he recognized the irrigation farm community, and particularly the Lars' farm they headed straight towards. Anakin's muscles tightened. He shot Obi-Wan a glance and then returned his gaze to the familiar property.

By the time they came to a stop at the Lars' home, Anakin's heart raced, and he couldn't place why. Fear of rejection, fear of being reminded of what a failure he was—what was Obi-Wan thinking bringing him here?

"Let's go," Obi-Wan said. He hopped out of the speeder and met Owen and Beru, who came to greet them out of the hovel. As if expected.

Anakin took several long, calming breaths before following.

"Do you have what I requested?" Obi-Wan asked, his attention on Owen and Beru.

Owen glanced at Beru and then slipped a folded sheet of paper out of his sleeve. He extended it towards Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan waved it towards Anakin. Anakin frowned, and Owen hesitated. He then offered it to Anakin with slight trepidation, their eyes briefly meeting before Owen diverted his gaze. Something akin to fear reverberated through the Force, and Anakin wondered if they knew who he really was— _what_ he really was. He unfolded the paper and read through the first few lines of a long list.

_Weed fields; clean irrigation lines; gather mushrooms; repair fences..._

The list continued on with a variety of basic farm tasks. Anakin's frown deepened.

"What is this?"

"Your list of chores for the day," Obi-Wan said.

Owen spoke up while scratching at the back of his head.

"If it's an issue, you don't have to—"

"Anakin is happy to help, aren't you, Anakin?" Obi-Wan gave Anakin a look. He wasn't really asking.

Anakin sighed and looked over the list again. None of it looked particularly difficult, but surely it would take an extended period of time. Then again, he had nothing better to do. Doing a few basic tasks would likely be better than sitting holed up with Obi-Wan, at least.

"All right, I'll be on my way, then." Obi-Wan headed back for the speeder.

"You're leaving me?" Anakin asked with a start. He'd expected Obi-Wan to linger until the work was done, or even for him to help with the tasks he so generously assigned him.

"You're not a child, Anakin, I think you can handle it," Obi-Wan said, a slight smile taking shape under his beard. He was enjoying himself. "I'll be back to pick you up for dinner. Stay out of trouble." With that, he hopped in the speeder and shot away into a cloud of reddish sand.

Anakin stared blankly after Obi-Wan, and then he scanned through his list of tasks yet another time.

"You really don't have to," Beru said, softly. She rubbed at her arm while Owen scratched at his head. Obi-Wan had put them up to this, not the other way around, and they felt awkward about it. It wasn't their fault, and if they'd been offered assistance, it didn't hurt him at all to do so.

"It's fine," Anakin said, though he sighed. Exhaustion weighed his arms and legs down, and he wondered if he'd even make it through half the list. He'd certainly try.

"I'll… show you to the tools you'll need." Owen waved a hand towards the garage. Anakin shuffled through the sand after him thinking the day was going to be very long.

\-----

The day passed quicker than Anakin anticipated. He completed all the tasks on the list early afternoon and had time to spare before Obi-Wan returned for him. He checked in with Owen and Beru to see if they needed anything else, and when they didn't, he left them to visit a site he'd been to only once, dreaded to see again, but needed to visit to maybe put to rest an incessant gnawing in his chest that struck the moment he set foot on Tatooine.

He went to his mother's grave.

Cliegg Lars and his family were also buried alongside her, and all of the graves were well-tended and treated with much care, none neglected more than the others. At the time of Shmi's death, Anakin had resented the Lars for bringing his mother there. His anger and bitterness had turned into hate that he used against people, anyone and everyone near. It had been naïve, foolish, the thinking of a child.

Shmi had died free and, if the Lars' reaction to her was any indication, well-loved. Cliegg had given her the hope and freedom Anakin had failed to give her. Owen had become the son Anakin could never be. Aside from her death, his mother's life after Anakin was significantly better than her life with him. Anakin seemed to have the misfortune of ruining everything and everyone he touched.

He wished he could have known Cliegg better, had given the man more of his time and attention. Foolish thinking given the circumstances surrounding Anakin's visit, but he would have liked to know the man his mother loved. Owen and Beru, for the most part, seemed kind and considerate. A bit wary of the Jedi, but he didn't blame them for that.

Anakin brushed off each of the graves and then settled on his knees in front of his mother's gravestone. He stared at its smooth features, at the care with which it had been carved out. Then hundreds of scenes paraded through his mind of his future life in which he killed everyone he loved and brought devastation to the galaxy. Tears flooded his eyes before he could help himself, and salty streams poured down his cheeks. Everything he became went against everything she believed in, everything she tried to instill in him.

She would have hated him.

"I'm so sorry," he said, out of breath. He reached a hand towards the headstone and couldn't quite reach, so he toppled forward and buried both hands in the sand to prop himself up. His tears splattered beneath him and turned the sand the color of blood. "I'm so…" The words caught in his throat, extinguished by a sob. His muscles went slack and he lowered his forehead to the sand. "Sorry. I'm sorry." He wanted to scream but didn't have the strength. Pathetically, he pounded his metal fist into the sand, giving the faintest thump.

She would have hated him, and he hated him, too.

\-----

It was nearing dusk when Anakin returned to the Lars' home. He'd tried to brush the sand off his face and out of his clothes, but it clung to him like a disease and worked in deep. It even found its way into the intricate parts of his mechno-arm, and Anakin regretted not wearing a glove. Maybe he deserved to have the aggravating little grains digging in everywhere.

"Obi-Wan still isn't here," Anakin said as he paused in the doorway. "Is there anything else I can help with before I leave?"

Beru set plates at the table and Owen appeared from another room, hair wet from a recent shower after a long day of work. Both paused at his question and looked him over. Anakin wondered how much sand still plastered his skin to cause such a look. Beru continued with her work, but Owen leaned against the nearest wall, crossing his arms.

"Nothing—and probably nothing for a good week or two thanks to the work you put in today. We appreciate it," Owen said, warm and genuine.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Beru asked. She reached for another plate, but Anakin waved his hand in refusal.

"No, thank you."

"Would you at least like to sit—"

"I won't keep you," Anakin said, cutting Beru off. His cheeks burned as he realized how rude his curtness must have seemed, but he didn't want to play friends with anyone anymore. Least of all the Lars, who had been good to his mother and to Luke in the future. They deserved better. "I'll wait outside for Obi-Wan." He turned back towards the exit.

"At least have a glass of water," Beru said in haste. She brought him one of the glasses already filled. "You've been out all day.

Anakin paused only because she shoved the glass at him. If he hadn't received it, she would have dumped it on him. Seemed she was taking lessons from Obi-Wan. Anakin drank it in a few quick gulps so as not to delay them further.

"Actually, I have something for you," Owen said after some consideration. He peeled himself off the wall and joined Anakin at the door. "I was cleaning out storage and found some things but wasn't certain yet what to do with them."

Anakin allowed Owen to pass, nodded in appreciation towards Beru as she took the glass from his hand, and followed Owen outside. Owen led him to the far back corner of the garage and moved aside several boxes piled against the wall. Dust swirled into the air from the movement. Owen selected a specific box and set it on a workbench and opened it.

Inside were several of Anakin's and his mother's belongings from their time as slaves with Watto. Anakin sifted through the box gingerly, feeling as though everything had grown so old and brittle that it might break. Everything would break under his touch at some point.

He pulled out his mother's hairbrush. It was old and ratty, and Cliegg had probably replaced it with a better one. Her life had been better. It had to have been. Tears stung his eyes again, but he forced them away and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"They could stay in here, of course, but if you wanted…" Owen shifted, swept a hand through his hair, and then sighed. Being with Anakin obviously made him uncomfortable.

"I'll take them," Anakin said, and he set the hairbrush in the box with care.

Owen flashed a quick grin and nodded. He turned and started to the door but paused halfway there. He stood in the center of the garage before facing Anakin again. His expression crumbled to something much more severe, doused in emotion.

"I never thanked you properly," he said. "So thank you." When Anakin frowned at the declaration, he added, "For bringing her back." He shuffled in place and scratched at his neck, his eyes shifting about the room. "So we could bury her proper, so we could grieve her proper," he said. "It was terrible what happened, but at least she came home. At least we knew and didn't have to spend the rest of our lives wondering. You gave us that."

Anakin looked into the box and stared into the shadows at its depths.

"I failed her." The words slipped out before he even realized he'd thought them.

A brief pause followed.

"No," Owen said. "The Tuskens did."

Anakin lifted his head, and he and Owen truly met eyes for the first time since Anakin had arrived. Emotions played across Owen's face, but Anakin couldn't quite decipher them. Owen retreated out the door and left Anakin alone with himself, his thoughts, and a box full of memories.

Anakin poked through the items and found various wires and parts he'd collected as a child. He'd always salvaged whatever he could find and turned trash into useful things. A protocol droid, a podracer—and then he found it. Anakin brushed a few useless bolts and screws aside and pulled out a small, rectangular device with a few wires dangling from the top. It had a scanner imbedded at the top of the case.

He'd created the device with the intention of using it to free the slaves. Given a few more parts and a lot of work, it would have been able to scan bodies to locate the explosive devices that trapped them with their masters. He'd had such grand plans as a child. He'd even dreamed he became a Jedi and returned to free the slaves. A smile came to his lips. He'd been naïve.

If he'd finished the device and used it, he'd maybe have found the explosives on one or two slaves before the slave masters got wind of his plan. He'd have been lucky if the masters hadn't simply obliterated a handful of the remaining slaves to teach him a lesson. To use a device like this, he'd have to find a way to scan over vast distances. No, he'd have to not only scan but adjust the device to destroy the explosives immediately, all at once. A mass rescue, a mass exodus, that put no one at risk of the explosives being used against them.

It was possibly doable. He'd need a lot more parts and a vastly powerful transmitter, plus a power source that could transmit a surge set to a very specific frequency in order to short-circuit the explosives. Much the same way they short-circuited droids, only less violent—better. Expensive and meticulous parts that his child self never would have understood or even imagined. That he'd never have been able to get his hands on, even if he dreamed it. Doomed to failure from the start.

At least his heart had been in the right place back then.

Anakin set the device on the top of his new treasures, lifted the box in both arms, and went outside to wait for Obi-Wan in the cool air of dusk.


	18. A Master's Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for coming along on this ride for me. You guys seriously are THE BEST, and I appreciate you all so much! Please continue to enjoy~

Obi-Wan arrived at the Lars' farm as the first sun touched the horizon and began to vanish, casting the world into a red haze of sand and sky. He found Anakin sitting on a fence post not far from the hovel. Obi-Wan landed the craft far enough away to keep from burying his former Padawan in a cloud of dust. He dismounted and aimed for the dwelling. Anakin didn't bother to look up, simply stared at the ground and maintained a loose grip on a box he'd acquired.

Obi-Wan knocked on the door of the hovel and was let in by Beru, who struggled to bring up a smile for him.

"Welcome back," she said, and she went to the counter where she tidied up after a meal. "Would you like something to eat? We have leftovers."

"No, thank you. I have food waiting for us," Obi-Wan said with a smile. He folded his hands into the sleeves of his tunic as Owen came out of a back room. As always, tension rolled off the young man. He was tied tight into a knot of resentment. Ignoring the heavy atmosphere and keeping a level tone, Obi-Wan asked, "How did things go today?"

"Well. He finished everything quickly and did an excellent job," Owen replied. He folded his arms tightly. "Better than most hired workers."

"Good." Obi-Wan kept up his smile despite the frigid tension. Owen hadn't much been fond of Obi-Wan in the future, something to the effect of Obi-Wan being a hazard to any and all Skywalkers, but that didn't explain the hostility in the present. Keeping level, he asked, "Much complaining?"

His comment struck a nerve. Owen's shoulders rose and his head tipped forward slightly.

"None at all. Barely said a word."

"Good," Obi-Wan said, more carefully than before. His smile diminished, but he kept a smooth expression on his face so-as not to increase the hostility. "If you have any other tasks for him, please let me know." With a quick and shallow bow from the shoulders, he swung back to the door. "I'm going to collect Anakin. Take care."

"Why are you doing this?" Owen asked. He dropped his arms to his sides but set his jaw. "He isn't well."

Obi-Wan paused and met his eyes. Genuine concern blazed in Owen's eyes, compassion towards a stepbrother he barely knew. And though the hostility was directed at him, Obi-Wan struggled against a smile that tried to pass on his lips. Anakin surely had no idea. He thought the galaxy had turned against him, and in truth, for the most part, it had. Any and all who knew of the future blamed Anakin for much of it, if not all of it.

Owen and Beru didn't seem to know, so when they looked at Anakin, they saw a peer. They saw a Jedi, perhaps, but also a young human struggling to survive in a bleak galaxy. And perhaps more than anything else, they saw Anakin as family.

Anakin deserved to have people who would look at him and love him exactly as he was in that moment, not as he could be if circumstances were different.

"Sometimes it's important for us to get outside our own heads," Obi-Wan said, and he left it at that. More than anything, he wanted Anakin to remember his heart. Anakin, the brash young man who would get himself into all sorts of mischief for the sake of others—Obi-Wan wanted to find that young man again. No, he wanted _Anakin_ to find that young man again.

Obi-Wan turned again to leave, but Beru spoke in haste and stopped him.

"He hasn't eaten, and he's drank so very little…"

Again he smiled.

"I'll look after him." And he meant it. With a quick nod, he departed and clicked the door shut behind him lest they stop him again. He appreciated their persistence because it was for Anakin's sake.

He made his way back to the fence where he'd last seen his former Padawan, and Anakin hadn't moved.

Anakin was the picture of pitiful. Sweat matted his hair flat to his head, plastered his clothes to his emaciated form, and drenched his skin. At least it was proof he wasn't so dehydrated—yet. His skin shone red from overexposure to the suns, mostly on his forehead, cheeks, and nose. Thankfully he'd worn long sleeves and trousers so that he hadn't been so exposed. Meanwhile, he simply sank, as if entirely incapable of lifting his head or his shoulders. The box in his arms looked as though it might drag him to the ground.

"Ready to go?" Obi-Wan asked as he passed Anakin to the speeder.

Anakin rose and dragged his feet after him. He set the box inside just long enough for him to climb in, as it took both his arms to lift his weight inside, and then he brought the box back to his lap and fastened it in both arms. Obi-Wan tried not to give too much attention to it, but with a quick glance he caught sight of electronics and household items.

Obi-Wan set them on course for their hideaway, the roar of the speeder and the whistling wind the only sounds around them. He hadn't hated Tatooine in his future exile—though he'd disliked the reason he had to come, but it also gave him a strange sort of quiet he'd never truly experienced on Coruscant. Even in all of their meditation chambers and gardens at the Temple, there was nothing quite as silent as miles of empty desert.

It wasn't silence that he necessarily wanted at that moment, though. In his mind, he'd lived nearly two decades in that sort of exile. This exile was meant to be different.

"What's in the box?" he asked, softly.

Anakin's face immediately turned away, and he rounded his shoulders and drew the box closer to his chest. He said nothing, and the walls he'd built around himself in the Force remained steady as could be. Obi-Wan hadn't the slightest idea what he was thinking or feeling.

The ache Obi-Wan had felt when he thought Anakin died at the reactor, regrettably, had not been vanquished by Anakin's survival. A great chasm remained between them that Obi-Wan hadn't the slightest idea how to traverse. Anakin's future seemed intent on leading him down a path of self-loathing and self-destruction, regardless of if he wore the mask of Darth Vader or not.

Perhaps there truly was nothing Obi-Wan could do about it. So much harm had already been done, so much damage had been done. Obi-Wan played Anakin's memories through his mind again, as he often had since they'd arrived on Tatooine and he had little else to do. He'd watched the brilliant, compassionate boy retreat into himself and put on his own invisible mask to play the role of perfect Jedi, to prove that he belonged. But he never felt that he did. Always acting, always trying to prove himself, but never feeling like he measured up.

Obi-Wan's critical nature and the untrusting eye of the Order didn't help matters, nor did the fact that most of Anakin's peers viewed him as an outsider. Anakin was drowning in the life they gave him but pretended he wasn't sinking to the bottom of the ocean depths. Failure meant rejection. _Slaves were disposable_.

And then, of course, they'd all but handed him to a Sith Lord. No. They _had_ handed Anakin to Sidious. They didn't like it, but they didn't resist. They didn't question too much, they didn't fight too hard. Anakin had been lonely, struggling, and Palpatine provided the perfect support Anakin wouldn't get from anyone else—with a whole lot of believable lies thrown in. The Jedi Order gave a child, gave the Chosen One, to a Sith Lord.

Anakin had never stood a chance.

Obi-Wan's chest ached. Mirroring Anakin, he sank in his seat and ran a tired hand across his face. He exhaled a long breath, thought of saying something more, but didn't bother. What could be said?

"Owen found it," Anakin said, breaking the rift of silence between them. His chin was on his chest, and he didn't really seem like he wanted to talk, but he did anyway. His flesh hand toyed with a hairbrush in the box. "Just some of my old things. And my mom's things."

Obi-Wan could no longer read Anakin through their bond through the Force, but he read the body language well enough. Shame ate at him. Another thing he'd learned hard and fast at the Temple, through Obi-Wan, through Master Yoda, through the entire Order: attachments were dangerous, _let go_. They hadn't known. Obi-Wan didn't know how useless those platitudes had been to someone like Anakin who knew his mother so well, who loved her so deeply. Attachments proved to be Anakin's downfall, but they'd also saved him, so they couldn't have been all bad. If provided the right tools, the right context…

Anakin's love for people, Obi-Wan had always thought, was one of his greatest motivations and one of his greatest strengths. His love made him care when no one else did. The galaxy needed people like Anakin, too. The Jedi could tend to the overarching issues of the galaxy, but someone needed to be on the ground helping the _one_ person who needed saving.

The galaxy needed more Qui-Gon Jinns who would bother to rescue a Jar Jar Binks or an Anakin Skywalker.

"You don't talk much about her anymore," Obi-Wan said. He hoped to draw out more conversation from Anakin, but instead, his former Padawan dropped the hairbrush and looked away.

"It isn't really the Jedi way."

"Perhaps not," Obi-Wan said, and he meant it as he added, "but it could be our way."

Anakin straightened in his seat, a wash of confusion gushing over his face. He glanced in Obi-Wan's direction—not at him, though, Anakin still hadn't looked directly at him since shortly after the vision, since Anakin crashed the _Invisible Hand_ and Obi-Wan had turned away from him. Anakin looked away, but Obi-Wan caught a glint of tears in his eyes.

"Don't do this. Don't try to change for me. You shouldn't have to." Anakin set his fingers to his brow, propping his head with his elbow on the arm of the seat. "You need to stop this—this whatever it is you're trying to do. You can't help me. Go and help everyone else. Go be a Jedi and do good. Stop wasting your time with me. You said it before, remember: I had the tools I needed, I was a Jedi Knight, and I still made the wrong choice. You can't fix me."

Anakin sank. Quiet, restrained, he bowed his head and his shoulders shook. The way he did when ashamed of his feelings, ashamed of himself.

Obi-Wan stared into the bleak distance, the desert a sprawling sea of blood in every direction around them. He had said those things in a different lifetime—to Qui-Gon, in the future, when his former Jedi Master spoke to him and apologized for thrusting Anakin upon him. Obi-Wan had not had the whole picture then as he did now.

Anakin was to blame for Anakin's decisions, but layer upon layer of trauma, suffering, and poor choices on the part of the adults around him turned him into the man he was. No matter how much Anakin insisted, no matter how much anyone insisted, Obi-Wan did not believe villains were born. No, they were made. And at 22, Anakin was still little more than a boy who had known more trauma and suffering than he ever should know and had been the victim of Sidious' malicious machinations for years.

If not for the vision and for the bond he and Anakin shared when the vision passed, he likely never would have known, had realized, how deep Anakin's hurt truly had been and how great a hold Sidious had on him.

If Obi-Wan could not be blamed for Anakin's choices now, he could at least be blamed for his own choices then, and the choices he allowed the Council to make for Anakin. Anakin's downfall was cemented the day they said yes to his private and frequent visits with Palpatine.

The Force gave Anakin to Qui-Gon. The Jedi gave Anakin to Sidious.

Anakin privately wept, and Obi-Wan said nothing. Their bond barred, he could do nothing but wait, and so he waited. When Anakin finally calmed, and wiped away his tears with his flesh hand, Obi-Wan spoke carefully, as gently as he could, and hoped his words would reach him.

"I don't think you need to be fixed."

He watched Anakin intently, but his former Padawan turned his gaze aside and slumped in his seat. All of the fight, all of the energy, all of the life in Anakin had died. As far as anyone else might be concerned, Anakin was dead, but he hadn't been replaced by Darth Vader. No, something else had taken his place. Something without a desire for power, something devoid of arrogance.

To Obi-Wan, it was something almost hopeful. He could almost imagine a tree flourishing out of the ashes of what had fallen. He hoped it was not merely wishful thinking and that it was the Force assuring him things would be okay this time. He couldn't tell right now. Everything had fallen so hard and so fast that it was hard to think anything—anyone—could rise out of these ruins.

"I'm not what you thought." Anakin's tone went hard and cold. "Or maybe I am. You did always think I was dangerous." He shifted in his seat. He folded his arms around his chest, but not in any sign of anger but of self-preservation. "All of you were right. Darth Vader was inevitable—is inevitable."

No, he was not.

How strange that the Jedi firmly believed the future was always in motion, impossible to know and understand, yet they so wholeheartedly believed in Anakin's potential for danger that it had a hand in every part of his life. Had their concerns for Anakin been justified, or had they caused his slip towards Palpatine and the darkness in the first place? How much blame could be placed on a child's shoulders when they as adults had had so much influence over him all those years?

Once again, Obi-Wan wondered what he could have done differently, done better.

But he could not fight such a fight then and there. He had to choose a better battleground. Anakin was in poor physical form, and that would certainly impact his emotional state, and not for the better. Better to wait until he was recovered to have these conversations.

"You're going to regret this," Anakin said, flatly. Monotone, emotionless. He sank deeper in his seat and turned a shoulder against Obi-Wan. "You'll regret being here instead of helping the Order and the Republic. And you'll regret not doing away with me here and now, same as on Mustafar."

Obi-Wan ignored the comment as best he could, but it bore into his heart and ran him through with a blade of dread and horror.

Anakin wanted Obi-Wan to kill him. And if Obi-Wan didn't, Anakin would find a way to do it himself. To save Obi-Wan sorrow, to save Padmé, to save the Jedi and the galaxy, Anakin would destroy himself. And once Anakin Skywalker had something in his mind that needed to be done for the good of others, he would see it through to completion.

Obi-Wan bit his tongue. He wanted to scold Anakin, to yell, to tell him that he was a fool. That if Anakin felt so strongly about it, he ought to turn his thoughts and actions towards doing good and away from destruction. He wanted to argue any number of things, but Obi-Wan's forceful attempts would only serve to push Anakin farther away, would encourage Anakin to slowly punish and destroy himself—for something he hadn't done. Something he wouldn't do in this lifetime.

As a few tears slid down Anakin's fever-red cheeks, Obi-Wan knew it was not the time for argument or discussion. No, Anakin needed rest and compassion. For now. All things he had rarely been given as a child slave, as the Chosen One, as a General, as the hero of the Republic.

Anakin would make it through this. Obi-Wan would make sure of it. He would not fail Anakin—this time.

They passed a few rolling hills and had almost reached the hovel.

"Anakin, I'm not particularly skilled in this area," Obi-Wan gently said. Compassionate discussion with an emphasis on emotion was not his strong point. No, Obi-Wan excelled in the logical, the practical. An ideal Jedi but a detached human. "But I do want to try."

Anakin said nothing, drawing Obi-Wan's attention.

Anakin's head lay on the side of the speeder, bobbing and bouncing with every movement. The box slid from his arms and caught on the panel of the speeder, otherwise it would have spilled. Anakin's hands went slack, his entire body heavy, eyes closed. Obi-Wan risked Anakin's wrath and breached the divide between them to place his hand on his former Padawan's forehead. Heat radiated from Anakin far beyond the typical from working outdoors, particularly in someone so adept at tolerating warm climates. Either his fever had returned, which Obi-Wan had meticulously tracked to ensure it came down, or he'd really been outdoors for too long.

In any event, he'd have to let Anakin mope around for a while again. At least for now, for probably the first time in a long while, Anakin slept. And for that, Obi-Wan was glad.


	19. Among Slaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading, reviewing, kudos-ing, and bookmarking, most wonderful ones! You are appreciated~~

Anakin sat in the passenger seat of the speeder and watched the desert fly by. His mind was still reeling from a bout of feverish nightmares, but the visions had finally subdued enough to where he could walk again. He couldn't be certain because he'd been in a state of delirium for several days, lost in the life of his true and future self, but he thought he'd been aware of Obi-Wan's presence several times during the long, sleepless nights.

As a result, Obi-Wan surely knew he wasn't sleeping but didn't say anything about it.

When Anakin woke, freed from his feverish haze, the world went on as it always did. Obi-Wan forced on him some sort of murky concoction—food blended into a drink, presumably—commanded Anakin to shower and dress, and ushered him out the door. Anakin complied with all his mandates, sat dutifully in the speeder, and waited for the next set of orders.

They landed just beyond the settlement of Mos Eisley. It was the first time Anakin started to make sense of where their tiny hovel was in relation to the most familiar destinations of Tatooine: likely right in the center. They seemed to be equally as far from everything, or perhaps it was his imagination.

Obi-Wan landed the speeder and exited, heading towards the settlement through the less populated outer streets. A few smaller crafts zipped by, and a bantha lumbered past with a person and a heavy load perched precariously on its back. Obi-Wan stopped, folded his arms, and waited. Anakin dragged himself out of his seat and toppled over the edge, barely catching himself on his feet. The world wobbled around him, and his arms and legs felt about as sloppy as the sludge Obi-Wan forced him to ingest.

"What are we doing here?" he asked as he joined his former Master.

Obi-Wan scanned the area and reached into his tunic. He placed a folded sheet of paper in Anakin's hand. This certainly felt familiar.

"Your daily list of tasks," Obi-Wan said as Anakin opened the sheet.

Anakin frowned and skimmed through the list. Every task, which included things like sweeping garages and sorting electronics, came with a name and destination attached. Every item on the list went to a different location in Mos Eisley

"They're the duties of slaves who are either injured or ill," Obi-Wan explained, and he folded his arms loosely over his chest. Anakin could feel his gaze boring into him, but Anakin maintained a firm focus on the paper. "I offered your services to allow the slaves a day—if not days—of rest. I thought you wouldn't mind."

Anakin gave a slight nod. Mind? Not at all. In fact, it would be nice to help the people he'd failed for so long. Even if he never saved them from slavery, even if he did nothing else, he could sweep a garage for them. He owed them that, and much, much more. As his eyes went back to Mos Eisley, as he took in the size of it all, watched the bustle of people in the streets, he realized again just how many people he had failed. His chest ached.

"Then off you go," Obi-Wan said. As he spoke, he drew a small pouch out of his sleeve and handed it to Anakin. Anakin looked inside to find a sizeable sum of local currency. "Make sure to get something to eat at some point in the day. And drink. It shouldn't take you long to complete that list, so take breaks and rest. You still aren't completely well yourself."

Anakin frowned at the sudden barrage of commands, his cheeks burning.

"I'll be back by dusk to retrieve you in time for dinner." Obi-Wan passed a clunky comlink to Anakin and added, "If you need anything, this is set to my frequency. And do stay out of trouble."

Anakin tucked the money and comlink into his belt and half turned.

"Would you like to hold my hand as I cross the street, too?" he grumbled.

Obi-Wan froze. Anakin couldn't bring himself to meet his former Master's eyes, but the sudden silence and lack of motion were noticeable enough. Obi-Wan gave a slight shake of his head, and whatever emotion, whatever confusion, was gone.

"I thought you might be past that point, but if you're not feeling confident about crossing on your own—"

Anakin rolled his eyes and left Obi-Wan to his sarcastic remarks. It seemed his former Master would never tire of treating him like a Padawan—like a child, like an inferior. Anakin slowed and glanced back. Obi-Wan had returned to the speeder and took off in a whirlwind of red sand. Another twinge of pain bit through Anakin's chest, and he frowned at the sudden heaviness in his limbs and in his heart.

He'd certainly been demoted, relegated to the status of inferior, and rightfully so. Anyone in their right mind would have done as such. He didn't deserve power—shouldn't have it, ever. But Obi-Wan had shifted back into the role of Master, to Anakin's guardian, to someone who presumably cared about his well-being. To someone who hoped to see him grow.

Anakin shook his head at the thoughts and to himself. He was dangerous, and caring for him was dangerous. The future could not be changed, and Obi-Wan would only end up hurt by wasting his time with him. Whatever his goals were with Anakin, they were stealing precious time from winning the war and from defending people from Sidious and from Darth Vader. From him _._ Anakin needed to understand why Obi-Wan was there, and why the Jedi allowed him to be there, when anything and everything mattered more.

Even if they cared so much about the prophecy and his trivial status as Chosen One, he would fulfill his duty even as Darth Vader. Nothing they did would ever matter. He was doomed, he would destroy everyone, and then he'd die and take Sidious with him.

Casting aside his thoughts, Anakin found himself already roaming aimlessly through the bustling streets with no idea how he even got inside the spaceport. Perhaps he would need someone holding his hand if his mind could blank so thoroughly. He doubted the Force would let him die regardless of the mess he got into, but he imagined what a scolding and slew of exasperated sighs he'd get from Obi-Wan if he came back clobbered by a herd of bantha.

Anakin made it to his first destination without event. An older slave had twisted her ankle and couldn't fulfill her cleaning duties, so Anakin cleaned the garage in her place—and then the food shop attached to it for good measure. After that, he found himself repairing speeder bikes for a Toydarian owner. He fixed everything, even repaired a bike thought to be demolished, and he hadn't a clue how he did it. His hands moved without his mind.

Meanwhile, the work brought back memories of his time with Watto, and more particularly, with his mother. Visions of his future self swarmed his mind for the next two hours as he worked. The visions weighed on him, and he found himself heavier with exhaustion. He wiped on his sleeve the sweat from his brow and moved on to the next job. The visions relentlessly pummeled him.

His mother would have hated him when he killed the Tuskens and every moment thereafter. Anyone who didn't had to be a fool. She deserved so much better than him as her legacy, as her child. She deserved better.

He was almost to his next destination, which was a little local eatery that Obi-Wan conveniently planned around the lunch hour, when Anakin saw the remnants of a complex transmitter discarded in a waste bin outside a small electronics shop. It was precisely the type of part he'd want for the old device he'd built as a boy to free his fellow slaves. It was small enough not to be obtrusive, but given enough power and a variety of other parts, it had much potential to broadcast over large distances.

Anakin pulled it out of the trash and turned it over. A few wires were missing and one of the main components had broken off, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. He glanced inside the shop to see if some of the other parts might be readily available and found a small boy staring at him atop the counter. A boy much like himself sitting on Watto's counter all those years ago.

"Are you tossing this?" Anakin asked the boy, who nodded and wiped at a small silver device without paying it any mind. "May I have it?"

"Trash is trash," said the boy with the shrug of one shoulder. "Doesn't matter where it goes as long as it goes."

Anakin faltered at the boy's words. He'd done his best to block all traces of the Force in a vain effort to keep out the nightmares, but he could still feel the hopelessness suffocating the child.

Trash was trash. A slave was trash, disposable like those parts. Always one word or one act away from being discarded.

Anakin wandered into the shop and scanned the various parts scattered on the shelves. If it was the child maintaining the shop, he was doing a good job at it. Parts had been categorized and thoroughly sorted. Anakin found several of the wires he needed for the transmitter, an amplifier, and a few additional switches and relays. He threw in a new case and a new circuit board even though the old would probably suffice.

With those things, he had everything he needed to get his device operational save one thing: a high-frequency power source to couple with his transmitter. That would be far beyond anything he could afford, even if it was broken and smashed into a dozen pieces.

He brought his things to the counter and spread them beside the child.

"Do you have a pouch I can carry this in?" Anakin asked.

"It'll cost ya," the boy said with another shrug. Anakin nodded, and so the boy produced a worn leather pouch with fraying threads. "500 wupiupi for it all."

Oh, Anakin remembered this game. The items he'd gathered, excluding the questionable leather pouch, probably only came to be worth about 100 wupiupi at best. If the boy didn't haggle and get a good deal, though, he'd displease his master.

"For this? I think not," Anakin said with a sharp glare. He rolled one of the wires, which had a crack in the tubing. "Look, it's broken. I'll give you 20 wupiupi." He had quite a bit more than that anyway.

"Yeah, for maybe one wire by itself!" The boy scoffed at him and set aside the device he was cleaning. He kicked his feet in the air and stuck up his nose at Anakin. Posturing, just like Anakin used to do. "I can maybe let them go for 400 wupiupi."

"Still not worth it. See these cracks? Makes the frame unreliable," Anakin said, pointing out a few dings in the other parts. Nothing of consequence, but definitely worth mentioning. "40 wupiupi."

"Thief! Maybe 300, but anything less will displease my master. I can't risk it."

Anakin had never played that game—aiming for sympathy. Inwardly, he smiled. This kid was good and knew how to pick his targets.

"I'm afraid I don't have that much, but I can do 200. No more." In truth, he had a little more, but the boy was already robbing him blind at that amount.

"Deal!" exclaimed the child with a wild grin.

They exchanged goods for money, and Anakin gathered up his new supplies in his pouch. As Anakin slung the pouch over his shoulder, he frowned. What was he even thinking? He'd never be able to obtain the last part he needed, and he had no intention of using the device. What was the point in fixing it? Obi-Wan was going to be very displeased with him.

"Mister," the boy called out, and Anakin paused, unleashing a sigh in the doorway as he realized his own foolishness. The boy scratched at his head and stared at his coins. "You're not from around here, are you? Don't be so gullible, 'kay? People are gonna take advantage of you."

A smile crossed Anakin's lips. He took the money pouch Obi-Wan had given him and tossed it and its remaining contents to the boy, who caught it with a befuddled expression on his face, eyes wide.

"You already paid me enough," the boy said.

"Consider it for the tip." Anakin nodded and exited the shop. Hopefully, the boy would hide the extra money away for himself—and for his family, if he had any.

Obi-Wan was _really_ not going to be pleased with him.

Anakin continued with his tasks until dusk. He cleaned at a small eatery, which seemed to take forever, sorted at a small parts shop, which took longer than expected because he got a little too meticulous about things, and last of all fixed someone's podracer. He spent at least two hours there, completely losing track of time, and before he knew it the suns were setting.

None of the slave owners thanked him for his services, and one of them even went so far as to say his efforts were a huge waste of time. An injured man, one of the slaves Anakin aided, did nod at Anakin from another room, though. Not that any of it really mattered. The sick would be sick tomorrow, and the injuries would be never-ending. Thus was the life of a slave. Nothing Anakin did would really matter. Obi-Wan probably didn't realize that.

Anakin gathered up his pouch of parts and wandered back through Mos Eisley towards the gate where he'd meet Obi-Wan. The lively bustle had calmed to a certain extent, but the spaceport remained noisy and active. Anakin was surprised he even heard the shouting when he did. A sniveling voice howled in anger. A child's cries answered.

Anakin rounded a corner and found the source; a gangly Dug cornered and yelled at a Gungan child. No one around them reacted, so they were likely a slave and slave master. The Gungan girl cowered, and the Dug shoved her to the wall. She held an arm as if injured and bowed her head and scrunched forward. Submissive.

Anakin remembered those games as well. Anger ignited inside of him, but he smothered it. His anger never led to good, only evil, death, and devastation. Nothing he did for good ever mattered, and his actions led only to suffering.

The Dug screamed in a mix of Huttese and Basic. The girl said nothing. She received a blow to her shoulder and toppled to the ground.

The anger grew, and Anakin hated himself for it. He was weak and pathetic, and that was why he was dangerous. He could not control anything, least of all himself. He kept walking and ignored it all as visions of Darth Vader crowded his mind. Of what his anger had wrought to the galaxy and to those he loved. And then an image of Bail Organa and Leia exploding rattled him to the core, and Anakin staggered and stopped.

The Dug screamed, and the girl cried in agony. Anakin trembled, shook his head, and turned back towards them, even though he hated himself for it. He should not interfere. His interference led to death. But he couldn't do nothing.

"You know," he said loudly, drawing the attention of more people than he would have liked, "if you treated and fed her well, she might serve you better. Might accomplish more, and quicker, if she's healthy and uninjured."

"Who are you?" the Dug snarled, spinning and spitting at him between mangy whiskers. "What business is it of yours?"

"I'm no one," Anakin said with a shrug. "Just stating what one would think is logical. Weak and injured people can't properly serve anyone."

"What people?" The Dug seemed genuinely confused, and then he connected the dots. His lapse in understanding made Anakin bristle, the anger twisting in his stomach. "They got enough to do their work! Anything more and may as well pay them." He spit again, spittle dribbling down his chin.

"Yeah," Anakin said, carefully, calmly. Fire ran through his veins. His body burned on Mustafar. He flinched at the images and took a step back. He'd done and said enough. His interference only caused harm. Better to quit while he was ahead. "You may as well."

The Dug snarled and then waved at the girl, who ran off whimpering into the shop. The Dug muttered something in Huttese that Anakin didn't quite catch, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. Hopefully, the girl didn't get in further trouble because of his carelessness. Anakin stepped back and turned in the other direction.

He needed to stop getting involved. Was this due to his attachment to slaves? To people? A Jedi wouldn't have stepped in and gotten involved in such ordinary affairs. It felt like everything he did led him one step closer to the dark side. He couldn't control himself, that was the problem. His attachment gave way to anger, which gave way to darkness.

Anakin hurried through the main street, his life as Darth Vader closing in on him, crushing him. He was always one slight step away from that, he knew. One foolish mistake away from it. It would catch up to him eventually. No amount of exile or solitude would change it. It hunted him and would overpower him.

And then he would destroy everyone. Even that little girl he just bothered to defend.

"It's you," a woman's voice said, cutting through his thoughts—somehow. "Oh, it's really you!"

Anakin slowed and glanced over his shoulder. A Rodian bent in back and shriveled by age and sunlight hobbled towards him, her voice breaking as she spoke. She used a gimer stick to balance herself. She was nothing but a layer of greenish skin on bone half concealed by a tattered gray dress.

"You've come!" she said, and he had no doubt her eyes were on him. Anakin faced her but stepped away as she drew near.

"I don't…" Anakin started, but a furious human man screamed from the shop from where the Rodian came.

"Get back to work! What are you doing?" He waved a fist in the air in her general direction.

"I know you," the Rodian continued, a shine in her eyes and emotion in her voice. She reached towards Anakin, but he backpedaled to maintain his distance. "I saw you. You are the one! You will save us all!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Anakin said in haste, and he could feel the rage quivering in the Force around the man—her master. Even so, he could feel the hope around her. He blocked them both out. Both were dangerous. He couldn't be involved anymore. "Go back before you get in trouble."

"Woman! Get back here!"

"You will free us all! I saw it! Oh, at last," the woman babbled, and she staggered as she proceeded towards Anakin.

In turn, Anakin retreated and shook his head. He couldn't do this.

"Please, you need to go back."

"You will save us, but not as you are. No, in a black mask," the woman said, urgency in her tone, in her words that came out in a breath. She kept towards him even as her master cursed her and raged. "Please understand! You must wear the mask! You must!"

Anakin quivered. She knew. She knew what he was. Even so, she scurried towards him. Her master went into the building, the door slamming behind him. Fear shuddered through Anakin, though he didn't understand why.

"Please go back," Anakin said, and his voice cracked. She kept coming, and he kept retreating. "Please."

"You must wear it," the woman said, pleading with him. Tears wet her bulging eyes still bright with life. "You must wear the mask. You must be both. You were meant to be both, don't you understand? That is why you are here!"

"Please stop," Anakin begged, and the man came outside with a small gray device in his hand. Anakin recognized it, and his heart froze in his chest. "Please—"

Then the woman exploded, and a chorus of screams erupted throughout the street. Everyone fled to the alleys, to the shelter of their homes and shops, and to the fringes of the streets. Anakin stood, paralyzed, as the woman collapsed only a few feet from him. He stared at her, what was left of her, and had to choke down whatever Obi-Wan had forced him to drink that morning. He spun and ran. Ran through the streets with people staring. He tripped on his own feet several times, his limbs limp and his body heavy. Tears burned his eyes.

He destroyed everything when he tried to help, and he destroyed everything when he did nothing.

Anakin ran past a bewildered Obi-Wan along the way. He exited Mos Eisley without looking back and dove into the passenger seat of their speeder. He drew the leather pouch from his shoulder and buried his face into it, as it was the only covering he could find, and squeezed it in both arms.

He destroyed everything.


	20. Tusken Raiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, always, for your continued support. You all really are truly amazing and SO awesome to have along for the ride. You're all the best! Thank you for spending some time here~

Anakin sat on the floor next to his sleep pallet and fiddled with the explosive-destroying device he'd put together. He had no grand plans to use it, though he was confident it would work if he had the last remaining part he needed. It gave him something to do, something to take his mind away from the nightmares. Whenever he went to work on it, he found silence. He found something apart from the violence, screams, and devastation.

He found something apart from the images of the Rodian woman as she exploded merely because she spoke with Anakin.

So he worked, his mind formulating connections and processes for creating the device without much effort on his part. Such skills came easily. He only needed to install a high-frequency power source, and the device would be operational. It was smaller, too, thanks to the slim case he'd purchased. It made the device easy to hide.

He hid his box of treasures under his sleep pallet, not that he thought Obi-Wan would be bothered by its presence. Anakin made certain to always bury the device in the box whenever Obi-Wan came around. It had become apparent over the years that while Anakin's tinkering wasn't wrong _,_ per say, it wasn't appropriately Jedi, either. Or maybe it was only inappropriate in Anakin's case, as he was known to form attachments.

And the device was intended to help the slaves, to whom Anakin was attached.

For that reason, it still confused Anakin that Obi-Wan had brought him to Tatooine. If his past was so detrimental and attachments so lethal, why did Obi-Wan bring him here?

Anakin paused his work and glanced at the door.

Obi-Wan had told Anakin to dress and then went off to wherever he hid their speeder. Anakin could have stalked him to find the speeder's hiding spot, but he had no delusions of running away. Obi-Wan didn't need to hide it—though it told Anakin much about the level of faith he inspired in people.

So Anakin sat, tinkered, and waited for the next excursion Obi-Wan would force upon him.

Anakin was lost in concentration and didn't catch Obi-Wan's approach until too late, just seconds before the door opened. At the click of the handle, he shoved the device into the folds of his tunic and swept his few tools under the sleep pallet in a clatter of metal on tile. He coughed to cover the sound.

"Where are you taking me this time?" Anakin glared at the floor in the poorest attempt at feigned annoyance he could muster because of how little he actually cared.

"Out," Obi-Wan said, a twinge of suspicion in his tone. He waited at the door with his arms folded at his chest. "Let's go."

Anakin waited for Obi-Wan to move so he could stash the device, but his former Master held his ground. So the device was going with them. Anakin sighed and rose, thankful at least the box and tools had been stashed appropriately. The device was small and inconsequential. He shuffled after Obi-Wan out the door and to the speeder, where he dutifully climbed into the passenger seat like a well-behaved child.

Obi-Wan drove them in silence. It wasn't the companionable silence he was accustomed to with Obi-Wan. It was icy and distant, with more and more walls building between them. Anakin was glad for it because it meant Obi-Wan would remain apart from him, would be less likely to be hurt by him. It would be better if Obi-Wan left. But the silence and the distance also meant that nothing remained between them, that Anakin was truly, completely alone.

He missed his mother, and he missed the times when it came easy to love and be loved. When he felt like he belonged, even as a slave and he probably really didn't. Anakin's need for attachments struck again, his forever fatal flaw.

But even his mother would have hated him then. There was no going back.

Anakin watched the endless wasteland of sand pass but frowned as he began to notice familiar patterns in stone and distant canyon walls. He sat straight as they closed the distance to Mos Espa. His heartbeat quickened even as Obi-Wan parked the speeder, hopped out of his seat, and headed towards the settlement. Visions flashed through Anakin's mind of his mother, their life together, and her violent, horrific death. The one he had failed to prevent.

Obi-Wan paused and turned back when Anakin did not follow. Anakin finally dragged himself out of the speeder and trudged after his former Master. To his surprise, Obi-Wan proceeded into the spaceport.

"Why are we here?" Anakin asked, unable to restrain the defeat that dripped off his tongue.

As before, Obi-Wan presented Anakin with a list.

"We're just here to pick up supplies. I have a list of rarer items that you might have an easier time acquiring than I would. I have my own list." Obi-Wan reached into the case on his belt and produced a small pouch of jingling currency. He gave it to Anakin. "Think you can get everything?"

Anakin scanned the list of somewhat rarer and more expensive food products, all of which only the wealthiest people could usually afford. Slaves almost never had access to any of them. Most of the food items were highly nutritious, rich with vitamins and minerals, and easily blended. It was a shopping trip on Anakin's behalf, apparently. At the very least, Obi-Wan was still intent on keeping Anakin alive. The Jedi thought him necessary to defeat the Sith, so it made sense in a strange, twisted sort of way. Anakin nodded at his former Master.

"Good," Obi-Wan said. "I'll head in the other direction. We should make good time that way. Meet here in about an hour. Will that be enough time for you?" Again, Anakin responded with only a nod. "Very well. Stay out of trouble."

Anakin watched as his former Master disappeared into the crowd. He scanned his list one last time and set off in the opposite direction. He wormed his way through the crowd, and his eyes constantly drifted to the familiar buildings, to the places where his friends used to work.

He thought he recognized some of the people, but very few. Slaves didn't last long. Either selling, gambling, or death took them. The few people he thought he recognized were older, the sorts who wouldn't sell for much and remained to do menial tasks until they died.

The older slaves wore despair like a veil over their faces. Eyes dulled and hope dead after years of misery.

Once upon a time, Anakin had thought he would change that.

He perused the local markets and purchased nearly everything on Obi-Wan's list. He knew well enough to haggle and got the best prices, as Obi-Wan had not been too pleased when Anakin blew the last pouch of money he'd been given. Somewhere, their relationship had regressed to that of an exasperated parent and naughty teenager, even though Anakin really was trying his best not to be a nuisance. It just came naturally on his part, apparently. Obi-Wan sighed way more often than he ought.

Anakin passed near Watto's shop, but he avoided it. He didn't need any more reminders of his life with his mother. He steered towards other shops instead and peered in windows and open stalls. It was in the window of a larger shop that Anakin saw the selection of high-powered generators, one of which was small enough and likely powerful enough to transmit a charge through his device. His feet stopped and he stared at it through the smudged glass.

He shifted his shopping bundle to one arm and withdrew the device he'd tucked in his tunic. The power source would even fit. It was slim but powerful. Just enough of what he needed and nothing more. But Anakin also knew, because he had been a slave who sold those parts, that it would be beyond his financial means. No matter what his circumstances in life, he'd likely never have the means to obtain such a device for tinkering and playing around.

His whole desire to build the device was trivial and childish. Purposeless. It was part of the reason the Jedi never supported his tinkering in the first place—what purpose was there to it? Anakin turned his newly created device over and examined all the little parts he'd meticulously put into place. Even if he could use it, what would the slaves do? With no money, no means to go anywhere, the slave masters or the Hutts would merely find another way to suppress them. They'd be captured, likely abused, and another explosive put in to replace the first.

Truly, nothing he did would ever matter.

Anakin sighed. He was tired of being the rebellious teenager. He dropped the device into the nearest waste bin where scraps were thrown to be collected and recycled. He felt foolish for having wasted Obi-Wan's resources on a pathetic child's dream.

Anakin turned and continued down the street. He found the rest of the items on the list with little difficulty and started to retrace his steps through the settlement. The bustle and noise exhausted him, but at least the visions strayed to the corners of his mind amidst the chaos. That was where he thrived, apparently, in whirlwinds of action and sound.

Distant explosions rattled the nearby buildings and spilled unstable shelves within shops. The ground vibrated under Anakin's feet. People screamed, their echoes carrying through the streets. A hazy cloud of smoke swirled over the buildings on the outskirts of the settlement, and before long, another chain of explosions followed the first, closer than before. People ran past Anakin. He stood still in the midst of it, the world a blur.

Dozens of Tuskens swarmed through the streets and chased after the people. They smashed through stalls and raided shops, stealing what they wanted and destroying what they didn't.

This was strange for them. They usually didn't barge into large settlements, usually weren't bold enough. They wielded strange weapons, too. Some wielded the usual gaffi sticks or cycler rifles, but others carried blasters—one or two even had handheld or wrist rocket launchers. Shiny, new weapons, not raided junk. Either they'd hit an incredible target before arriving at Mos Espa or something was very out of place.

The first wave of Tuskens retreated, and a crowd of civilians of Mos Espa, crudely armed, chased after them to defend their livelihood. Anakin caught his breath and pursued the crowd. His mind reeled from the noise and the chaos: shouts and screams, smoke and rubble from fallen buildings, flames eating through wood structures and dusty tapestries.

Then and there, he felt completely, utterly lost. He wasn't a Jedi anymore. He was the villain, the monster, and he didn't know what to do with himself.

He watched as the Tuskens retreated from the settlement into the desert sands with goods and captured people, mostly slaves the slave masters didn't bother to protect. Beyond them marched an army of at least two hundred basic battle droids, all also shiny and new.

Anakin's stomach dropped. Droids didn't bother with Mos Espa or Tatooine. Not unless they were after something more valuable.

"Good riddance!" shouted a man as the Tuskens scampered away with their stolen goods and people. The man was armed but did nothing with his weapon. "Be gone!"

A host of other civilians echoed him, shaking their fists.

Many had weapons and yet did nothing to stop their assailants from taking the people. Visions of his mom bound and tortured wrestled to the forefront of Anakin's mind. He choked down bile at the memory and wavered on his feet. He clutched his head.

"They're taking people," Anakin said, breathlessly, and he glanced at the man nearest to him. To the blaster in his hand that he chose not to use. "Why aren't you doing anything?" He spun towards the others. Almost all of them were armed and doing nothing. "You have to help them."

"They're just slaves," said a Devaronian with a shrug. He fired a warning blaster shot into the air and then turned away.

Most of the others turned away as well.

To them, the slaves meant nothing. Just as his mom and friends meant nothing. Just as he meant nothing.

Anakin swallowed a lump that insisted on strangling him.

"They'll be tortured and killed!" he shouted, trembling. As always, his emotions got the best of him.

"Good point," a Klatooinian said with a grunt. He departed, only to return a few moments later with a familiar silver device in his hand. He fiddled with it, pushing whatever buttons and switches he needed, and then a slave exploded amidst the Tuskens and droids.

Cheers erupted from the slave owners of Mos Espa—and suddenly many of them came forward with their own devices, setting off the explosives. Tuskens screamed as living bombs went off in their midst.

Anakin staggered backwards and sat on a heap of stones that used to be a building. His heart stuttered, his stomach churned, and his vision blurred.

_They're just slaves._

In a screaming rage, the Tuskens rushed back towards the settlement with droids flanking them. Blasters fired sporadically from the droids and from people in Mos Espa. A few miniature torpedoes launched and shattered nearby buildings, and slivers of stone and wood rained on Anakin's head. Several more slave owners scattered into the settlement to retrieve their detonators to 'teach those dirty Tuskens a lesson.'

_They're just slaves._

Anakin blinked at the bag of supplies he'd purchased. The package was on the ground, some of the vegetables spilled in the dust. He frowned at his hands that should have been holding it. More debris smattered his head. A whirlwind of images flared behind his eyes, images of his future self destroying the galaxy. Of him destroying planet, civilizations, cities—of him destroying living, breathing people.

And then he saw his mom, and the Tuskens that killed her. And him killing them in return. Tears stung his eyes. He couldn't do nothing.

He sprang to his feet and dashed down the street to the shop where he'd discarded his device. Thankfully, it lay in the waste bin, unharmed. He plucked it out of the bin while sliding, and then he smashed through the door of the shop and grabbed the device he needed. No one was there to stop him, but he had no intention of stealing. He flung his remaining pouch of money behind the counter and determined to return the part when he was done.

He installed the part while he jogged back to the edge of Mos Espa where the civilians launched their attack against the Tuskens and droids. More and more slave owners appeared from the depths of the settlement with their devices in hand. Rushing to watch the devastation they would soon cause. Anakin lunged to the side to avoid a blaster bolt before he even realized he was doing it, his fingers twisting wires, his mind elsewhere. He jumped over a body he hadn't realized had fallen. Always, his mind worked best in chaos.

He closed the back of his device and powered it on, and he joined the slave owners and civilians on the edge of Mos Espa as the Tuskens and droids drew near. Another slave master activated his device, and another slave exploded somewhere in the midst of the approaching army.

Anakin turned the knob of his device, let it charge, and then flipped the switch. The device beeped, and then all of the electronics around Anakin shorted out. No explosions, no smoke or flames, everything simply went dead, from explosive devices to blasters on both sides of the battle line. Droids toppled, and Tuskens and the people of Mos Espa swatted at their blasters in confusion.

"Oops," Anakin muttered. He hadn't bothered to set the frequency of the electronics he'd fry, and as a result managed to fry everything.

But it didn't matter. Several slave owners tapped at their detonators and raged. Nothing happened. No explosions. No death.

The Tuskens wielded gaffi sticks and rusty vibroswords and ran at the city again. In turn, the people of Mos Espa threw down their useless weapons and detonators and ran.

Anakin didn't much care what happened to the slave owners, but a lot of innocent people lived in Mos Espa, and a lot of people were getting carried off by some of the fleeing Tuskens. He tucked the device into his tunic and grabbed the broken post of what used to be a canopy over a stall. He spun it in hand, and while it was far lighter than a lightsaber or any other weapon, it had excellent length.

Red clouded his vision as he stepped into the blazing sunlight cast over the clouds of sand and smoke. Anakin dashed into the oncoming horde of Tuskens and twisted the wood pole about with precision, stabbing into chests and sending Tuskens flying and shattering arms to drop weapons into the dust. No one made it anywhere near him.

He climbed over the first wave of Tuskens and raced to meet the second wave. They came at him armed with primitive weapons. As Anakin sprinted across the sand, sunlight glinted off a rusty vibrosword that had been discarded by the first group of Tuskens. It wasn't a lightsaber, but it would be effective. Anakin picked it up in his left hand.

Dark visions crowded his mind. Death. Destruction. His mother died, tortured and broken. Bail and Leia exploded in a corridor and were swept away into space. Alderaan blew apart.

Armed with a blade and a pole, Anakin took a step towards his oncoming enemies, his mind empty save the violence of his future self and the devastation he wrought.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan screamed somewhere behind, and Anakin paused, a tremor running through him. "Anakin, don't do it!"

Anakin dashed forward, the weight of the weapons unequal in his hand. One would kill on contact. Would protect Anakin and the slaves from further harm. Would win the battle. The other wouldn't kill. Would put him in danger but spare those who didn't deserve to live. Would allow his enemies to fight another day. One seemed right in the name of justice while the other seemed so trivial and useless.

The red closed in, and behind it played again the visions of Bail and Leia dying. Anakin didn't understand—such a vision was never in the one the Jedi had seen. It wasn't the future they knew, it was something different. Alderaan blew apart under something smaller, less potent than the Death Star, but nearly as destructive.

And then he saw his mom. She smiled. She loved him as no one had ever since. She thought the world of him, and she thought he existed to help others and that the world would be a better place if everyone helped each other. That was her heart and her hope.

Anakin believed it once, too.

"Anakin! Don't!" Obi-Wan's voice broke through the images.

Anakin wouldn't do nothing. He couldn't. He couldn't stand by and let people suffer anymore. Not when he was right there, not when he was capable.

But he would do better. Somehow.

Anakin ran at the oncoming army, and he cast the vibrosword away into the sand. The red receded, and his vision cleared. He would win, no matter what, because the people of Mos Espa needed help. Because the slaves needed help. But he would not do it as Darth Vader.

He stepped into the line of Tuskens with the wooden pole turning in a wide arc. He used the Force to push, and the line flew back. Wave after wave of Tuskens followed, and Anakin slammed into them, stabbed with the pole, rolled under weapons, and tripped them with the pole to their ankles. When they came near, he gave another push with the Force, always maintaining just enough distance to move.

His mind emptied. He simply moved. Ducked under every swiping weapon, dodged every stab. He jabbed and flung Tuskens aside and freed the captured civilians.

"Get behind me," Anakin said to the people as he passed, and he kept moving forward.

The Tuskens didn't stop coming. Behind them, a wave of droids marched at him from out of the desert. Apparently, his device hadn't reached quite that far. Their weapons would work, too.

Anakin froze, noting all of the captives had fled behind him. He extended his hand to the enemy army and concentrated. The buzz of the Force tingled through his limbs. Anakin used it to grapple at the Tuskens, and he lifted them off the ground before hurling every last one of them aside. Droids marched forward, and several of them aimed torpedo launchers at him and the people behind him. Streamers of smoke rippled through the air as the torpedoes fired.

Anakin stopped every torpedo in the air. He turned them. He threw them back.

Dozens of torpedoes exploded over the droids, and glittering parts of silver poured through the air and hit the sand. Anakin grabbed the rest of the droids and let his mind crawl into them and through them, into their internal workings. There were far too many of them to disassemble and destroy, so he picked one and followed its source of power, it's point of command, out to a ship in space, far but not far enough.

Anakin melted into the ship, as though his mind disconnected from his body, and traversed the wires and the inner workings at its core. He pulled at the cables connected to the power source and tore them apart with the Force. He slipped back into himself, his body light and airy, and it felt like a part of him hadn't returned.

In front of him, all the droids convulsed and toppled, deprived of direction and power.

As soon as repairs were completed on the ship, the droids would reactivate, so Anakin charged into them. He slammed through them with the wooden pole and tore off heads, arms, and anything that might cause harm. He broke through wave after wave until none remained. He reached the end of their army and found a sprawling desert of sand on the other side.

A group of Tuskens clustered in the open desert. Another wave to attack, Anakin assumed. They took one look at him and fled. All of them ran, even the ones Anakin had left in his wake. They scattered into the desert and vanished into the glaring sunlight and beyond rolling hills of sand.

Anakin watched, and then pain knifed through his head. He staggered as it stabbed from one temple to the other. He touched his forehead. Sweat dripped off his face. His limbs could hardly move, stiff and heavy. His muscles twitched throughout his body. The pole slid from his mechno-hand as he lost the ability to maintain his grip.

"Anakin…"

His pulse roared in his ears, so he heard Obi-Wan only as a distant echo. Slowly, Anakin turned, and the entire world kept spinning. Desert, clouds of dust, and glaring rays of light swirled around him. He couldn't tell if he was moving or not. Obi-Wan seemed to blink from one corner of his vision to the other.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and he seemed to have stopped at a distance.

Always at a distance. Anakin was dangerous. It was better that way. He was a tool, a weapon, a monster. His vision flickered. He willed his body to move, and it must have obeyed. He went past Obi-Wan, towards a crowd of people. They crowded together in front of him, and then they suddenly parted. They moved away from him—away from the monster that would destroy the galaxy.

Crushing pain ripped through his head and poured down over the rest of him. His lungs constricted, his throat tightened. A weight pushed on his chest, and he felt his heart might explode. And he burned from a relentless heat. Like the flames of Mustafar. His hand went to his head. He still had hair.

His vision flickered. Bail stood in a group of people and passed Leia to a woman Anakin didn't recognize. Bail faced Anakin, walked towards him. At first he wore a look of concern—distrust—and then he managed a tired smile. It was short-lived. Red flooded Anakin's eyes from the bottom up, and the world twisted. The image of Bail in a hangar bay on a ship overlaid the streets of Mos Espa. Everything went sideways. Bail's face crumpled to panic, he shouted something Anakin couldn't hear, and he ran towards Anakin. Sideways. Bail went sideways.

Then the vision was gone, but the red remained. Mos Espa remained. Obi-Wan took Bail's place and ran towards Anakin. Sideways. Anakin was looking up. A cloud of dust whirled around him as he hit the ground. Obi-Wan shouted something at him, but Anakin only heard the roar of his own blood through his ears.

His vision went black.


	21. A Course of Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are legitimately the best. Seriously. Thanks for reading, commenting, kudos-ing, bookmarking, and just generally being spectacular human beings. You are appreciated!!!

Warm light crept through the window and cast a golden sheen over everything in the hovel. Soon the heat of day would make Obi-Wan's task that much more difficult. It had already been another exhausting night keeping watch over Anakin's relentless fever.

Obi-Wan dumped a bowl of warm water into the sink and filled it with cool water before returning to their small sleep space. He sat at Anakin's side and used his own sleep pallet as a bedside table, setting the bowl of water there along with a few washrags and a thermometer. He dipped a rag into the water, wrung it out only slightly, and replaced the current rag on Anakin's forehead with it. He did similar with the cloths over Anakin's neck and under his arms.

Three days. Three days and three nights had passed since their encounter with the Tuskens at Mos Espa. Three long and dreadful days had passed since Anakin had used some feral, untapped power of the Force and singlehandedly decimated an entire droid army with nothing but a wooden stick. Three days had passed since Anakin turned in the street, pale and disoriented, with droplets of blood slipping from his eyes like tears, with blood streaming from his mouth, nose, and ears.

Three days since Obi-Wan's heart stopped in his chest and he ran to him as Anakin collapsed, as he held him and thought him dead.

For fear of being discovered by whatever forces thought to send droids, Obi-Wan took Anakin and fled to their hovel, but he brought a local healer to help. Anakin bled significantly, and then it ceased. It left him dehydrated but alive. A dangerous fever remained, far higher than should be tolerable. Obi-Wan had thrown him into a cold shower half a dozen times and kept cold compresses on between refresher visits, all seemingly to no avail.

The healer could only tell him that Anakin's heart raced too fast, that his blood boiled, and that nothing else was wrong with him. He gave some primitive drinks to ward off dehydration, for which Obi-Wan was thankful since he had little else, and then the healer left them.

All the while, Anakin twitched and muttered through the nightmares in his head. Sometimes he screamed—for Padmé, for the twins, at himself in spite, and even for Obi-Wan. Twice he'd lashed out with the Force. Their table lay in a heap, the boards splintered from Anakin's unintentional display of raw power.

As they approached the early morning hours, his fever finally relented. Miserable heat replaced the violent chills. Obi-Wan used a wet rag to smooth Anakin's hair back to keep it from plastering on his face from the sweat that drenched his skin.

Once Anakin was appropriately tended to, Obi-Wan dried his hands and leaned back, exhaustion dragging him down. He looked Anakin over again as he had countless times in the past three days, and a sense of hopelessness settled over him.

Nothing had changed. Anakin was nothing more than skin and bones. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep—and on the off chance that he did, it was never restful. Every night since they'd arrived on Tatooine, Anakin tossed and turned. If he slept, he muttered through nightmares and startled himself awake. Anakin put walls around himself to prevent anyone access to his mind, but Obi-Wan could feel the despair in the air around him. The Force was heavy with it despite Anakin's efforts to cover it.

In one fell swoop, Anakin had experienced fear, anger, hatred, and suffering, all in regards to the presently non-existent Darth Vader. He experienced those feelings so deeply that they consumed him. Anakin felt so much.

Mostly due to his upbringing, so it was no fault of his own. Obi-Wan had never truly understood why Anakin felt so much, never understood the depth of his feelings, how uncontrollable they felt to him. To play the role of Jedi, Anakin had learned to tuck them away, only for them to burst out later—to Anakin's utter confusion, no less. He didn't know why he felt as he did any better than the rest of them. He didn't know why that wasn't working.

Obi-Wan had failed him in many ways. He said it in the future, but now he meant it on so many other levels. If only Anakin knew how sorry he was for it. Obi-Wan would take those burdens from Anakin if he could, would bear them himself if it meant Anakin would heal. Anakin would cause so much harm in the future, but it was brought about by much harm done to him from his childhood until then, from his life as a slave, from his life as a Jedi, from the pressures of war, of being the Chosen One. For too long, Anakin crumpled under a weight he never should have had to carry, and he did so alone because he felt he had no one he could trust.

Because Sidious whittled away at Anakin's faith in himself and others. Because Sidious groomed Anakin since he was nine years old. Because Obi-Wan had failed to notice and protect Anakin.

Anakin muttered and flinched in his sleep, and then he rolled to his side and dislodged all of the wet rags Obi-Wan had put in place. Obi-Wan took the rags away, but Anakin rolled again, grumbling, and then his eyelids fluttered. Bleary-eyed and dazed, Anakin awoke with a terrible scowl on his face and a sharp inhale of air. He flew upright, but Obi-Wan caught him with a hand at his chest and pushed him back down.

"Quiet, and lie still," he ordered, and his former Padawan sprawled on the bed and blinked rapidly. Anakin hadn't looked at him in weeks, and he wasn't about to start. He stared at the ceiling or stared at the space beyond Obi-Wan, never meeting his gaze. "You're ill, Anakin. You need to rest."

Yet as he said the words, Obi-Wan exhaled. He'd worried over Anakin for three days. To see him awake alleviated at least one of many heavy burdens on his shoulders.

Anakin scratched at his forehead and then let his fingertips find his hair, almost as if he expected not to find it. He dropped his arm back onto the cot. His eyes flicked around the hovel.

"I don't remember…" he said. He frowned and scratched at his head again.

"They know you're here," Obi-Wan said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. "Grievous and his forces are setting up as if to attack." Another worry that had been on his mind, but he'd already been in touch with the Order about it. Whether they liked it or not, Anakin was clearly still a key player in Sidious' plans.

Anakin frowned and blinked, and then he scrubbed his brow, eyes wet with tears. He didn't weep, but his voice broke just the same.

"All those people that died…"

Obi-Wan heard the unspoken words: because of me. Always so quick to blame himself. So quick to judge himself in ways he would never judge another. So quick to feel like a failure and then resort to puffing himself up to cover his mistakes. But he'd lost that arrogance now, and he didn't deny his shortcomings. Sidious wasn't around to feed into Anakin's insecurities and to bolster that arrogance, but as a result, all Anakin had was the belief that he was a failure.

How much Obi-Wan wanted to take that from Anakin, but he didn't know how to bear that burden for him. He didn't know how to take even a sliver of it. He opened his mouth to speak, but what could he say? So he closed it again without making a sound. Instead, he took the thermometer and slipped it into Anakin's ear. His fever continued to sink, to Obi-Wan's relief. As he removed the device, Anakin caught his wrist.

"You have to help them," Anakin said, still somewhere between lucid and delirious. His hand fell like dead weight to the cot. "You can't waste your time here."

Obi-Wan sighed. Even though he understood the feelings, the despair in Anakin's words grated on his nerves. Only because of how horribly wrong they were, how out of place. Anakin had done so much good, had saved so many lives, and impacted so many individual people positively, and yet he saw himself as a waste.

The rumble of engines distracted Obi-Wan from formulating a reply. It was for the best. He hadn't had a suitable response since the start, and he still didn't. He didn't know how to combat Anakin's despair, and so he didn't. Their help had arrived, though he didn't know if it would be for the best. He patted Anakin's shoulder as Anakin sat up at the sound.

"Get washed up and get dressed," Obi-Wan said, knowing Anakin would be furious with him if he weren't given the advice. "We have visitors." Then, lightly, he squeezed Anakin's shoulder. "And do know it wasn't my idea."

Anakin frowned, but that was the extent of the reaction from him. Obi-Wan rose and exited their dwelling.

A small landing craft settled in the sand not far from the hovel. The door opened, and before anyone else had a chance to disembark, R2 came screaming off the ship and made straight for Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan sighed and didn't bother avoiding. The little astromech droid slammed into his leg, beeped at him furiously, and then zigzagged past Obi-Wan towards the dwelling, its head swiveling.

Obi-Wan rubbed his sore leg and offered a passing glare at the droid before his gaze drifted back to the ship. Master Windu stepped into the sand. Padmé, dressed in simple traveling garb and with a child in each arm, followed. She held the twins with perfect ease, but Obi-Wan couldn't help himself from hurrying to her, taking one of the little bundles from her. She relinquished the child with a smile and then offered Obi-Wan a hasty embrace. He kissed her cheeks and returned the embrace. She leaned back, and the smile fell away.

"How is he?" Padmé asked, her eyes full of worry.

Obi-Wan couldn't help the smile he hoped his beard concealed. Even knowing the future, she loved Anakin dearly. She saw the best in him and refused to let it outweigh his faults. She would encourage him to build on that goodness, if only he would let her. And then his smile faltered and his head sank. The child in his arms squirmed—Luke, he could tell by his presence in the Force. Something about him reminded Obi-Wan so much of Anakin—the eyes, the nose, something.

"I wish I could say he was doing better," Obi-Wan said, a hint of pain grating in his chest. He met eyes with Padmé, could see her heart breaking. "But Anakin feels so much, so deeply. And to him, the future is absolute. It's already happened, it already defines him. He already…"

"He hates himself," Padmé said what Obi-Wan couldn't. Wetness shone in her eyes, but she blinked away the tears. She drew Leia closer. Despite her attempt at strength, her voice cracked. "But I don't hate him. Despite the future, despite what I know he could do… I already know who he is right now. I may not understand how he came to that point, but he's not there yet. I still love him. Is that foolish?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, but Master Windu spoke before he could.

"He has struggled with fear and anger his entire life," he said, his expression tight, but a curious gentleness touched his words. Whether for Padmé's sake or regarding Anakin, Obi-Wan couldn't decipher. "I have always seen about him various points of breaking—everyone has them, though some to a lesser extent than others. Everyone is at risk of the dark side. It is why we must be so cautious against it."

Master Windu gave Obi-Wan a furtive glance. Obi-Wan wondered what sort of breaking points he himself had. Anakin would likely be at the center of them. He'd already left the Order on account of Anakin, which to some Jedi would seem like one swift step into the darkness. Obi-Wan felt peace with the decision, though. His anger no longer existed.

"In the future, when I tried to destroy Sidious, that single moment was Skywalker's shattering point. And from that moment forward, he could not come back." Master Windu folded his hands behind his back, his attention wholly on Padmé, trying to help her understand. "Those who have fallen cannot come back, the power too alluring for some, the shame and guilt too great for others. It is… astounding that Skywalker came back at all."

"But he has not made any of those decisions yet. I won't condemn him for a life he hasn't yet lived," Padmé said, as if arguing with him. "A life he won't live."

Master Windu merely tipped his head in acknowledgement.

The door to the hovel opened, and Anakin stepped outside, dressed in light clothes already soaked in sweat. He'd tried something with his hair, because about half of it fluffed up in a wave while the other half sank sadly, pathetically back to his head. The sun bleached his skin and made the dark circles under his eyes that much more prevalent. He looked like a walking corpse.

Padmé sucked in a breath when she saw him.

R2 had no reservations about Anakin. The droid zipped the short distance between them and bumped into Anakin's legs—surprisingly gentle—and then beeped at him. Whereas Obi-Wan received a hostile barrage of beeps and whistles, Anakin received something far kinder, melodic. Little nuisance of a droid.

"Artoo, what are you—" Anakin placed a hand on R2 and looked beyond the droid. When his eyes landed on their guests, he went quiet, and he retreated into himself as he was so prone to doing. His head sank, his shoulders along with it. His hand slipped from R2 and hung limp at his side. "You shouldn't be here."

"Anakin—" Padmé started, but Anakin spoke over her.

"It isn't safe for you here. It isn't safe…" His voice broke with emotion. He retreated to the hovel and pressed his back to the wall. He shuffled sideways towards the stairs leading to the door, but R2 scooted in the way and blocked him. Anakin froze where he was, face downcast. "It's dangerous."

"I brought a worthy security detail, don't worry." Padmé dared to approach him.

"Don't!" Anakin raised his voice from emotion, from hurt, not anger, and Padmé faltered. "Stay away. I won't hurt you again."

Padmé shook her head, her face twisting in a terrible way.

"You didn't hurt me."

"But I will." Anakin shuffled along, but R2 resolutely held its ground against him.

"I want you to see your children," Padmé said, softly. "I want you to hold them."

Even as she spoke, Anakin frantically shook his head. He reached up and scratched at his face and then his hair. He did that often, whenever his mind seemed to wander elsewhere, likely into the nightmares that ruled his thoughts.

"I won't hurt you," he said, almost at a whisper. "I won't hurt you. Please go away." His legs wobbled and he leaned against the hovel. "Please."

Padmé held her ground for a moment, offering the slightest shake of her head, and then a few stray tears managed to spill from her eyes.

"You are good, Anakin," she said in tenderness, with deep affection. "You are kind and compassionate. The you here and now, you would never hurt me. Learn and grow from the future, but then come back. You don't belong there. You didn't make that choice, so come back." She covered her mouth, and the tears came more readily. "Come back to us. We need you."

Anakin didn't move, and Padmé kept a hand over her lips. She returned to Obi-Wan and took Luke, expertly balancing the twins. She met Obi-Wan's eyes, and the depths of her sorrow broke his heart.

"He's dying." Said so matter-of-factly. With the shake of her head, she retreated to the landing craft and disappeared inside with the babies.

Anakin leaned heavier on the building, his knees bending so he slid halfway down the wall. R2 beeped at him. Anakin set a hand on the droid and lowered himself to the ground beside it. Dutifully, R2 whirred and whistled at its master and remained close.

"He is… different," Master Windu said, his arms crossed at his chest and his gaze locked on Anakin. "There are fewer than before." When Obi-Wan frowned, he added, "Shatterpoints."

Anakin slumped against the hovel and tossed a few handfuls of sand away from him. He rested his head against R2, and the droid beeped and scooted a few centimeters closer. It gave a sad, tired little whistle, and Anakin closed his eyes.

"You don't understand what I did, Artoo," Anakin said.

Oh, good grief. Anakin was going to argue with a droid about it.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes back to Master Windu.

"I don't suspect you traveled all this way to discuss Anakin's well-being."

"No," Master Windu replied, his brow furrowing. "It seems you were right to call us. General Grievous is amassing his forces in the surrounding airspace. It seems the boy remains a person of interest in Sidious' plans."

Obi-Wan passed a glance at Anakin, who had stopped talking to R2 and instead watched them with interest.

"We'll have to go elsewhere," Obi-Wan said. He ran a hand over his beard and let out a slow exhale.

He'd hoped Tatooine would be too obvious for Sidious to hunt for Anakin there, and apparently it was _too_ obvious. Anakin had already visited with the Lars and stopped at his mother's grave, and he'd been to Mos Espa as well. Obi-Wan had hoped to remind him of the boy he used to be, but they'd done nearly all they could there.

"There is another matter," Master Windu said, carefully. "I came to ask you back." His statement was meant for Obi-Wan alone, he paid Anakin no mind. When Obi-Wan frowned, he continued, "It seems Gubacher was a traitor working together with the clones who betrayed us in the Temple and destroyed our transmitters."

"Gubacher? A traitor?" Obi-Wan dropped his arms. He'd carted the doctor halfway across Coruscant, through one disaster after another. Gubacher had been harmed and near death, far too much for him to have been part of the plot. Or perhaps that was the point. How many times had Anakin been in near-fatal situations, all while playing into Sidious' hands?

"The jamming signal he placed in the broadcasting station was set to a timer, and it changed frequencies and the output signal." Master Windu sighed, for once the weight of the circumstances dragging his shoulders down. He withdrew a small holoprojector from his sleeve and displayed rapid images of clones attacking civilians and Jedi alike. "The clones have turned without an audible Order 66. The few control chips we'd been researching… were distorted somehow. Whatever Gubacher put into effect changed the chips at their most fundamental levels."

"We have to remove them altogether," Obi-Wan said in haste. "We can't keep playing games with the clones' lives."

"That has been our intention, but with Kamino destroyed and the people either missing or displaced, we have few enough resources as it is. And now we face clones who have turned of their own volition, clones captured from Kamino by Grievous, and the clones turned by the control chips," Master Windu explained, and he shook his head. "We are out of options and out of time. Grievous is after Skywalker, but Sidious is nowhere to be found, and an army of clones is closing in on Coruscant as we speak." His face hardened, and a sharp edge tinged his words. "We need to prepare to fight. It may be our last option."

"You can't." Anakin struggled up the wall. He wore a frown at first, but when their eyes landed on him, he withered. He set his hand on R2 and leaned on the droid as well as the hovel. "If it's a matter of the chips, perhaps I could…" He wilted further and slid partway back down the wall. His eyes glazed over and his head sank, his chin to his chest.

"Anakin, if you have an idea, we would certainly love to hear it," Obi-Wan said, firmly.

Anakin shifted his weight.

"I made a device," he started, his voice meek and without any trace of his usual confidence, "I used it in Mos Espa to destroy the explosives in the slaves without harming them. It works over wide distances, without having to be close to the target. It seemed to have worked…"

"Those devices are electronic, are they not?" Obi-Wan asked. "The control chips are organic."

"Yes, but…" Anakin sank further, and his arms fell limp to his sides.

For a moment it appeared as if he might give up the fight, but then he inhaled deeply, and straightened. Full of resolve Obi-Wan hadn't seen in him since their fight on the _Invisible Hand_ to rescue the Chancellor.

"The brain is essentially a computer," Anakin said. A hint of doubt touched his words, but little. "It fires signals through pathways just like any sort of electronic." Anakin tapped a finger to the side of his head. "We just need to rapid fire something into it that targets those wires—those specific nerves—to make them overheat and disassemble. Gubacher must have done something similar."

"These aren't droids, Anakin." Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face and then crossed his arms over his chest. He hated arguing with him, as it was the most Anakin had spoken for weeks, but he couldn't let Anakin try something so lethal to the clones. When it failed, countless people would die, and Anakin would be devastated. An impossible situation. "And this isn't a precise surgical procedure. You're talking about using this device from hundreds upon thousands of light years away. At the risk of the clones' lives, at the risk of destroying living matter in their brains."

Anakin fell back against the wall once more, suitably chastened. R2 whistled at him sympathetically, but Anakin ignored the droid.

"Do you believe it would work?" Master Windu asked Anakin.

Obi-Wan couldn't help his surprise. Of all people, he assumed Master Windu would see the extreme danger in Anakin's plan.

"If I had some time with Gubacher's research, as well as data on the control chips themselves, I think, maybe…" Anakin kicked at the sand. "I think I could find the right frequency and make it work."

"It's a start. Let's go," said Master Windu, and he strode to the landing craft, his cloak fluttering behind him like a broad shadow. "We have the research on our command ship. You will have access to what you need there."

Anakin stared, wide-eyed, and then he scampered to the door of the hovel. He paused and patted at his chest as if expecting something to be there. He turned towards Obi-Wan but kept his eyes locked on the sand at his feet.

"It's in the box under your bed," Obi-Wan said, fully aware his former Padawan was looking for the device he'd hid in the folds of his tunic. Anakin's eyes grew wider, and his gaze almost made it to Obi-Wan's chest, so much closer to eye contact. Obi-Wan couldn't help the smile, and he let it paint the tone of his voice. "We shared a tiny hovel, Anakin, and you weren't being very sneaky."

Anakin frowned, and a hint of red rushed to his otherwise pallid cheeks. He scurried into the hovel to retrieve the device. He returned with the box, and it was probably the only thing they had of worth in their tiny dwelling. Obi-Wan needed nothing.

They boarded the ship, and Anakin vanished in the cargo hold of the tiny vessel, not to be seen again until they reached the command ship far beyond the atmosphere of Tatooine.


	22. The Device

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your continued support makes me smile, and I'm so glad to be on this adventure with you. You've made the process of writing much more enjoyable!! Thank you for commenting, kudos-ing, following, bookmarking, and, of course, READING. You make this journey awesome. THANK YOU!

Anakin stepped off the landing craft into the hangar bay of the command ship, and it took everything in him not to reverse course. The leader of Padmé's mentioned security detail greeted them as they disembarked: Rex. In fact, most of the faces prepping ships and weapons in the hangar bay belonged to the 501st.

Someone had a cruel sense of humor. After all, in the future, Anakin destroyed all of them. He'd seen for himself the Torguta-decorated helmets on display in a makeshift graveyard. He himself led his own men into the Temple to bring down the Jedi—and the Republic. He not only allowed them to be enslaved and destroyed like the rest of the galaxy, he played an active role in crushing them.

"Welcome back," Rex said to them, lightly, as they exited the landing craft, and he stood straight in a show of respect. His gaze flitted past Anakin to Obi-Wan. "I see the mission was successful."

Anakin stared at the floor. At the thought of the clones, at their enslavement, at their needless deaths, more visions clamored to the forefront of his mind. Death after death after death. He shivered. He wanted to take himself as far away from them as possible, so he could play no part in their deaths, but he had a duty to fulfill. If he was successful, he would save their lives, leave them better off than they were at that moment.

Then again, the Force itself had a cruel sense of humor and would probably see fit that he blew them all up instead.

He quivered at the thought. He imagined the device in his hand, him pushing the button, and every last slave and clone exploding. It settled under his skin and stuck like a barb in his mind.

"Sir," Rex said, subtly, and Anakin could feel his gaze on him.

Anakin only nodded and maintained his focus on the floor. He'd failed them. He had trusted Sidious over his own men. He had let his men die because of it. He betrayed them. Fives died for nothing—because of him.

Master Windu led them through the ship, skipping pleasantries with the crew. At some point, Padmé left with the twins, and Rex escorted her. Anakin exhaled a deep breath, and it felt like he breathed for the first time since he'd seen her—them. His chest ached at the sight of them, the family he always wanted. He did not deserve them.

"I had them prepare Gubacher's research, as well as data from the control chips," Master Windu said as he led Anakin and Obi-Wan to a large wall of computers in a research lab on the ship. "You should have access to everything you need."

"I'll do what I can," Anakin said, and he took slight steps towards the largest of the computers. He was an outsider now, no longer a Jedi, no longer worthy of access to their information or facilities. Hesitantly, he sat and perused what they'd supplied him.

Gubacher and several other researchers had left substantial data on the control chips, but most if not all viewed it as an organic part of the brain, something to be treated meticulously like a tumor or other wounded tissue in the body. Gubacher was the first and only to look at it from a broader perspective, from a hive-mind perspective.

"He did his homework," Anakin muttered, mostly to himself, as he scanned the neural connections Gubacher had picked apart and the frequencies with which he had scrambled those networks in the control chips. Scrambled put it lightly. He had conditioned them into something altogether different, adjusting what the clones had been ordered to do.

"I still can't believe Gubacher betrayed us," Obi-Wan said. He scratched at his head and glanced at Master Windu. "You are certain he wasn't taken captive by the clones who betrayed the Republic? They would have had access to him if they remained mixed within our ranks."

"He betrayed us," Anakin said before Master Windu could speak. He sank in his seat as he envisioned the future, the Death Star. He'd known Gubacher was a part of it. He flinched as he had another vision, new but frequent: Alderaan being blown apart and unraveling by a smaller, lesser beam. He shook his head and winced.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, and he drew closer.

"Gubacher definitely betrayed us. He's working on the Death Star." Anakin scrubbed at his head. For a moment, the flames of Mustafar devoured him, and he shivered as the flames left him and he felt nothing but cold. He scratched at his hair, still there, and then he hunched forward in front of the control panel. "They're working on it."

"You are certain?" Master Windu asked, tone cold and steady. When Anakin nodded, the Jedi Master persisted in a harder voice, "How do you know?"

Anakin flinched, the nightmares of Padmé dying in childbirth springing to mind. He shook them away. He hesitated.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan drew closer, and he placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder. Anakin shrugged it away.

"I'm having visions," he said. "But it's new. It's different than the future we saw." Anakin scratched at his neck and squirmed in his seat.

"We should warn the Senate—" Obi-Wan said, but Anakin whirled in his chair, his heart thundering in his chest and in his ears.

"You can't!"

The startled looks of both Jedi Masters turned Anakin around in his chair, and he stared blankly at the screen of data in front of him.

"Every time I acted on my visions, people died." Anakin sank, and he suffocated under a deluge of visions of Darth Vader. "Leave it alone."

Neither said anything, and Anakin ignored them. They should know better, anyway. Even Master Yoda had told Anakin to let go of everything even when in his visions he saw people die. Let go. Don't pursue it.

Anakin pulled up another screen and dissected the control chip at its deepest levels. He familiarized himself with all of its patterns and intricacies, and it felt identical to absorbing information about a new piece of technology. Despite it being organic, it was clearly still artificial in design, precise and orderly.

"We'll leave you to your work," Obi-Wan said, gently, and he placed another reassuring hand on Anakin's shoulder that Anakin didn't bother to remove. "Let us know if you need anything."

The door slid shut behind them after they existed. Anakin remained in the research lab alone. He glanced around at the empty seats and vacant screens. Usually at least a person or two remained on duty, looking into things they acquired on their trips and preparing data necessary for disembarking in new, potentially lethal locations.

Then again, this particular vessel had a rather unique and singular purpose. One didn't need researchers while desperately hopping from planet to planet in an attempt to stop clones from murdering everyone. Especially not when the most important researcher fled to help the enemy.

Anakin focused on his work, and as usual, he become so engrossed in the process that he lost track of himself and time. He adjusted his current device but fitted it with so many new parts that it became something else entirely. R2 trundled in at some point. A few times people came to speak with him. Anakin didn't acknowledge them. Once Obi-Wan came to order him to rest, but Anakin was so lost in concentration that he hadn't the slightest idea how he even responded.

He lost himself in the device, in the intricate parts and pathways, and in the processes to make it function. When he thought he had it down right, he ran through vigorous simulations on the computer to test it, adjusting the power, frequency, and distance, plus compensations for interference. The first few trials would see hundreds upon thousands of clones die. By the end, he had tried everything he could imagine and met success.

Anakin stood and wobbled, and he tipped sideways before R2 rammed into his side and propped him upright. Anakin leaned his full weight on his companion droid and struggled to breathe. The lab turned circles around him and turned into a hazy blur of blinking lights in a sea of gray. He remembered getting up a few times during his work and feeling a little woozy, but he'd certainly been sitting for too long that time. Rubbing at an ache in his brow, he slid the door open and stepped into the corridor beyond. Padmé and Rex stormed towards him with Obi-Wan leading the charge. Padmé faltered when she saw him, but Obi-Wan hurried his pace.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, and he caught Anakin's elbow as Anakin teetered into the hallway. Both Padmé and Rex had stopped at a distance.

"Fine," Anakin said, and he tried to shake Obi-Wan's grip. His former Master held him easily, and Anakin found himself leaning some of his weight against him.

"Fine," Obi-Wan said in echo, and he frowned, deep and stern. "Anakin, you haven't eaten or slept in four days." When Anakin continued to lean, Obi-Wan added, "You can hardly stand."

"But I finished it." Anakin put the device in Obi-Wan's hand. It blurred, and then it blossomed, and suddenly there were three of them!

Anakin squinted and then rubbed at his eyes. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. If he had failed to test something in his pitiful state, if he'd missed any one thing, a lot of clones would die. He frowned at the device and considered taking it back.

"Have someone else review my work," he said, and he blinked repeatedly. Still three devices mounted on Obi-Wan's hand. "Just to see if I made any mistakes."

Obi-Wan handed the device to Rex and then led Anakin down the hall, one hand on his arm and the other on his back.

"We'll look into it. For now, you should rest." He passed a quick nod to Padmé and Rex, and they in turn nodded back.

Were they there for him? They spun around and followed Obi-Wan down the corridor. Anakin frowned at their presence, at their exchanges. Rex eventually broke away from them, but Padmé remained a distant shadow. Anakin wanted her farther away. Her and Obi-Wan both. He didn't deserve either of them, he was thinking, as Obi-Wan led him into medbay. It took a moment longer to realize their intentions when the medical droid greeted him by name.

Traitors.

"I am fine," Anakin said, and he pushed away at Obi-Wan's hands. Obi-Wan didn't relent, grabbing his arms and guiding him to one of the beds.

"And you will continue to be fine here." Obi-Wan pushed, and Anakin all but fell on the bed. He sat, and Obi-Wan continued to grip his arms and prevent him from moving. Anakin didn't quite recall Obi-Wan being so strong. "You can rest while we run diagnostics on the device. Fair enough?"

As the question slipped from his lips, something pricked Anakin in the neck. He swiveled on the edge of the cot and watched the medical droid streak away in a blur of silver. Belatedly, Anakin touched his neck, his frown deepening.

"You sedated me," he said. His vision swam.

"Yes. We did." Obi-Wan nonchalantly pushed Anakin onto the cot. The droid wheeled what appeared to be an IV stand towards Anakin from across the room.

"You—but I don't want…" Anakin's words slurred. The thought of what he wanted to say flitted away. Obi-Wan turned into a hazy cloud over his head. Anakin pushed at the hands on his chest and shoulder but couldn't get them to budge. "…don't want to see them." Nightmares. Anakin didn't want to sleep. Couldn't sleep.

Obi-Wan set a hand on Anakin's head. Warm, significant. A presence prodded at Anakin's mind in the Force, knocking on a door Anakin refused to open. But it stilled his thoughts, silenced the screams, turned off the endless darkness.

"Sleep," Obi-Wan said. A suggestion in the Force. Anakin couldn't keep his eyes open. "Sleep, my friend."

Anakin effortlessly drifted into slumber.

\-----

Obi-Wan woke Anakin some time later. When the med droid removed the IV and Anakin rose, the world had stopped spinning and his vision cleared. Strangely enough, he hadn't had as many nightmares. A few of the haunting images of his life as Darth Vader plagued him, but they were few and far between. For the most part, he knew only darkness and silence.

"How long was I asleep?" Anakin asked as Obi-Wan guided him through the ship.

"It doesn’t matter."

An extended length of time, then.

"We ran the preliminary tests on the device. It works," Obi-Wan explained to Anakin. He led him to the ship's holding cells, where prisoners of war were kept. "We thought it best to test the device on a smaller scale, and that you ought to be the one to do it. If something seems off, your instincts with the device will hopefully kick in."

They entered the detention area. Padmé, Rex, Master Windu, and a few other clones gathered around one particular cell. Anakin approached, close enough to see inside but no farther. Two clones, dressed identically in shirt and trousers that fit under their standard armor, sat against the back wall of the cell beyond the orange shield that sealed them inside. Their eyes flitted from Master Windu to Obi-Wan. The Jedi, their targets, Anakin realized, and a shiver went up his spine.

"It's in your hands, Skywalker," Master Windu said, and he handed Anakin the device he'd created.

Anakin took it and turned its weight over several times. Unaltered from what he remembered. He pulled off the back of the device to inspect inside, and nothing appeared to have been tampered with. The device would blast its signal in a small radius, likely only to cover the ship, if even.

"Are there any other clones on the ship with chips?" Anakin secured the device back into one piece.

"None, sir," Rex said. He waved a hand at the cell. "Only these two."

Anakin nodded, stepped forward, and faced the cell. The men looked beyond him. He had never been a part of Sidious' plans for destruction—whatever hostile orders the clones had been given, they excluded Anakin. He would live while everyone else died. He stared at the device and the few switches. One button would either save or destroy them, depending on what he'd accomplished—or failed to accomplish.

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Rex asked, a twinge of hesitation in his voice. Not fear, but distrust.

Rex had lost faith in Anakin.

Anakin stared at the device in his hand, and then he lifted his gaze to the men beyond the orange shield of wavering energy that barred them from him. If he had made the slightest mistake, they would die. One couldn't play games with the tissue in someone's brain. One mistake would mean damage throughout the brain, internal bleeding, or any other number of complications. Obi-Wan had been right: they weren't machines, they weren't technology that he could so easily manipulate.

He shivered, and the device trembled in his hand.

"No, I'm not." Anakin set the device in Rex's hands because he was nearest. He slipped past Obi-Wan and headed towards the door. A muffled cry of surprise drew his attention back.

Padmé swiped the device from Rex, aimed into the holding cell, and hit the button. Everyone stared at her in apparent shock, even Master Windu, but Padmé wore a severe look, fire blazing in her eyes. The device blinked and beeped, activated, and then all went quiet. Two thuds sounded from inside the detention cell, and the others clustered around Padmé and peered inside.

Anakin held his breath.

"W-what's going on?" asked one of the clones from the cell.

Padmé lowered the device, having frozen the moment she pressed the button. Then she shoved past Obi-Wan and Master Windu, heading straight for Anakin. He dropped his face even though he could feel her glaring at him. She slammed the device against his chest, and he caught it moments before she let go.

"You may have lost faith in you, but I haven't." She swept past him and vanished through the door.

Anakin stared at the device and reminded himself half a dozen times to breath. Oxygen escaped him anyway.

Master Windu disengaged the barrier to the cell, and he and Rex entered. Anakin dragged himself close enough to peer inside. Both prisoners sat and rubbed their heads.

"How you feelin'?" Rex asked them, ever the leader, ever concerned for his brothers.

As he chatted with them, Master Windu ran a scanner over each of them, both several times, over the right side of their head. His eyebrows went up at the last scan, and he rose and stared at the screen of the scanner before facing Obi-Wan. Anakin dropped his eyes to the scuffs on the floor.

"The chips dissolved. They're gone," Master Windu said.

"Gone?" Obi-Wan and Rex echoed him in perfect harmony.

"Gone." Master Windu rose and stepped out of the cell while Rex tended to the men. Anakin stepped back as the Jedi Master approached him. "It seems you were correct." When Anakin responded with a shoulder shrug, he continued, "Are you able to broadcast this signal on a much larger scale using the facilities of a HoloNet Station?"

"Yes," Anakin said. "That's…" That's what he intended it for, to cover vast distances at once, to free the slaves in a mass exodus. His head and shoulders sank. "So long as the power supply and frequency are correct, it shouldn't be a problem."

"We're moving?" Rex came out of the cell with his men behind him.

"Yes. Finish preparations," said Master Windu without hesitation.

Rex nodded and slipped past them, taking his comrades with him. Master Windu returned his attention to Anakin. He tipped his head in suggestion towards the door, and together the three of them walked. Master Windu and Obi-Wan walked on either side of Anakin and kept his pace, though he tried several times to slow and fall back.

"We're closing in on a HoloNet Station controlled by Separatist forces. It is currently overrun by droids and… clones. We will need to move quickly to take the facility and broadcast the signal to spare as many lives as possible." Master Windu folded his arms into the sleeves of his robes. His face tightened not with fear or worry but resolute determination. Very fitting for a model Jedi, the type of which Anakin could never hope to match. "General Plo is en route to lead an aerial assault against the enemy forces. Meanwhile, the three of us will infiltrate the facility from differing entry points with the sole purpose of you, Skywalker, reaching the central computer."

"Me?" Anakin tripped over his own boot as he halted. Both Jedi Masters stopped and faced him, both frustratingly expressionless. They'd had all sorts of discussions without him, about him, but they clearly hadn't thought things through. "Why? I shouldn't be the one to do this. Call in someone else. Someone more…" Reliable. Trustworthy. Safe.

"We haven't the time to bring in anyone else." Obi-Wan mirrored Master Windu and wrapped his arms over his chest. "We would have to call for someone knowledgeable enough to do this, likely all the way from Coruscant. And if our message to summon said person were intercepted, keeping fully in mind we have treasonous clones scattered throughout our ranks, we'd jeopardize the entire mission." Firmly, he added, "You are here and you are fully capable, Anakin. We need you."

Anakin gave the slightest shake of his head and exhaled a faint breath. Neither Jedi Master budged.

"For now, the enemy considers the station essential and likely won't risk damaging the facilities. They'll use it for as long as possible to control the clones throughout the galaxy and will do their best to repel us. However, as soon as they feel threatened, they make take measures." Master Windu stood straight, tall, towering over Anakin, and set his hands on his sides. It was an intimidating posture. "We must move quickly. Understood?"

Under Master Windu's hard expression and rigid tone, Anakin withered. He managed only a nod.

"Commander Rex has already chosen an elite unit to move with you through the facility. You must reach the console and broadcast the signal at any cost." Master Windu turned and swept ahead down the hall, his cloak billowing behind him. "I have preparations to complete. We meet in the hangar on the hour."

The door slid open for him, and he vanished through it, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone. Anakin slipped past Obi-Wan but paused when his former Master did not follow and made no indication of moving. Instead, he rubbed at his beard and frowned at the ground. At last, he straightened and reached into his cloak and withdrew a lightsaber.

"It isn't yours," he said, and he placed the handle in Anakin's hand, "but I don't believe he'd mind you using it."

Anakin turned the handle over, its weight familiar. He'd used it long ago, when first he began his training with a lightsaber.

"Qui-Gon's lightsaber," he murmured, and he held it with both hands, feeling that it might break. For the first time in a long while, Anakin noticed Obi-Wan wore his lightsaber on his belt. Since they had departed for Tatooine, Obi-Wan hadn't worn it openly, and Anakin hadn't ever seen it in their hovel.

"You're accustomed to it, so they brought it for you."

Anakin stared at the grip, at the familiar parts of Qui-Gon's weapon. Anakin had failed Qui-Gon and did not deserve to wield his blade. Qui-Gon had placed so much hope in him, so much faith in him, only for Anakin to let him down. Just as he had let his mother down, and Obi-Wan, and Padmé, the Order and the Republic.

"I can't do this," Anakin said, and he choked on his own words. "I shouldn't do this. It is not worth the risk, Master."

"Anakin, look at me." Obi-Wan spoke firmly, with a sternness Anakin hadn't heard in a long while.

Anakin couldn't bring himself to look up, couldn't meet his former Master's eyes. He closed his eyes instead and squeezed the grip of the lightsaber to steady his hand from dropping it.

"You have done this dozens of times," Obi-Wan said. "You have fought and won countless battles and saved thousands of lives. That is who you are right now. You are not Darth Vader."

Said with such intensity that Anakin almost believed him, wanted to believe him. He trembled and drew his arms to his body.

"Not yet, but I will be—"

"No." Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin's hand over the grip of Qui-Gon's lightsaber and squeezed. The strength of his grip ceased Anakin's momentary tremors. "You are the one my Master believed in, and you are the one I believe in even still because you have never let me down… and I don't believe you ever will."

"You saw the future," Anakin said, and emotion riddled his voice. So childish, so un-Jedi-like.

"Yes, I did. And here we are instead," Obi-Wan said. "You had two choices, Anakin. On that ship in Kamino, it was either me or Sidious. You chose me. Keep making that choice." For a moment, emotion permeated his words. Emotion, but much strength and resolve. Hope. "I will not hold your future against you so long as you do not hold mine against me."

Anakin frowned. He had seen Obi-Wan's future, by some error of the Force. He lived Obi-Wan's life as well as his own. He knew his Master's past, his future, his heart, his hopes, his insecurities. He knew it all, and he knew his Master remained the ideal Jedi for as long as he lived, and even after.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Anakin said in confusion.

"Yes, I did." Obi-Wan's voice softened, but his grip on Anakin's hand over the lightsaber tightened. "I walked away."

Anakin shuddered at the words. He didn't understand. A ripple through the Force trickled through Anakin's mind, whether from Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, or the Force itself, Anakin had no idea. He lived his life and Obi-Wan's together, two different points of view, yet he saw through both their eyes at once. On a black beach where the flames devoured Anakin alive, Obi-Wan walked away. His affection smothered by his grief. His attachment destroyed by his duty. Anakin burned, and Obi-Wan departed.

Obi-Wan left a hand on Anakin's over the lightsaber but placed the other hand on Anakin's shoulder. Familiar. Steady. Warm. Like a father's, or a brother's, Anakin used to imagine. Sometimes still did. He didn't deserve affection from a Master he would betray and destroy, yet he couldn't bring himself to shake off the hand.

"I will not leave you this time, Anakin," Obi-Wan said with perfect certainty, no doubt or hesitation. "So please… stay with me."

A dry lump caught in Anakin's throat. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. He stared at the floor between them. He did not deserve his Master's kindness. He did not deserve Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder and allowed his hands to slip away. He passed Anakin and made for the door. Anakin kept his eyes glued to the floor and followed without a word.


	23. Invading the HoloNet Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, you most excellent and wonderful people, for all of the continued support. You all are absolutely incredible, and I appreciate you SO MUCH! Please continue to enjoy as we draw near to the end of this ride~

Anakin searched their destination through a storm of blaster fire, explosions, and drifting debris. The broadcasting station loomed like a miniature planet out the viewport of their boarding craft. Round in design, it sported four enormous towers that protruded from its top, each mounted with circular broadcasting dishes. The Separatist forces met them well beyond the facility, making it abundantly clear they wanted to keep it safe and out of their hands.

A new face to the 501st, Wraith, piloted their vessel through a swarm of enemy fighters. Wraith was older than most of the clones, rumored to be due to increased growth acceleration, and was strangely gaunt in comparison to his brothers. He had experience in various companies prior to joining the 501st and left only positive impressions in his wake. He and several others had replaced those who fell on Mandalore. Thankfully, a bulk of the 332nd Company had returned alive due to Ahsoka and Rex's quick thinking. Most of the faces that had joined them on this fight were faces Anakin recognized. Those he didn't, he worked into his permanent memory.

"Not the welcoming types, are they?" Jesse muttered, shifting his weight to one leg. He held his helmet propped against his hip. Rex took a similar stance at his side.

"Let's return the warm gestures," said another new face, a clone by the name of Ice. One half of his head was shaved, his remaining hair trimmed short, and he had a blue lightning bolt tattooed over a scar on his jaw. With a grin, he rained blaster fire and a single torpedo on the approaching enemy fighters.

An explosion erupted in front of them, jostling their vessel.

"Would you stop? It's hard enough navigating through this mine field without you making a mess of things." Wraith groaned and tried to steady his grip.

"Fine," Ice said. "I'll just let them shoot us."

Wraith swept a hand over his bald head, wiped the sweat off his brow, and then scratched at the dark stubble on his chin.

"Just don't get us killed."

The corner of Anakin's lip turned upwards. He'd forgotten what the banter was like, the sensation of being part of a brotherhood, of existing and belonging. But the smile faded before it fully blossomed, because he didn't belong. Not there, not anymore. He was neither Jedi nor general. He was the task, the job.

From the right and left, streaks of silver like shooting stars whirled through the vastness of space. On both sides of them, full fleets of enemy ships appeared, and more closed in fast. Anakin felt no particular sense of alarm, but Wraith leaned back and Ice sat with mouth gaping.

"Oh," Ice managed to say.

_"They're on to us."_ Obi-Wan's voice arose from the comlink he'd provided Anakin. _"Anakin, be on your guard. Their forces are headed your way!"_

"We noticed," Anakin said.

The oncoming fleets opened fire on their vessel. A handful of friendly fighters answered the fight but were heavily outnumbered. Wraith dipped and twisted their craft through space full of explosions, and nearly everyone in their vessel tipped and tottered. Anakin grabbed the back of Wraith's seat and kept his gaze locked on the battlefield. They were heavily outnumbered, with dozens if not hundreds of enemy droids approaching.

Another rain of blaster and cannon fire smattered their ship. Something hit them hard, jerking the ship sideways, and an alarm signaled and warning lights flickered on the control panel.

_"Looks like you could use some help,"_ Master Plo said through Anakin's comlink. A second later, an entire army of friendly starfighters dipped into view and engaged the enemy.

Anakin almost smiled. Almost let the comment slip from his lips. _Better late than never, Master Plo._ A little friendly, pre-battle banter with someone who had once been a trusted ally. The thought slipped away as quickly as it came.

He had been complicit in Master Plo's death. He was no ally of the Jedi.

"Take us in," Rex said to Wraith. "The sooner we get in there, the less people who have to die out here."

No one said anything in response, for they all felt the weight of their duty. Clones would keep dying needlessly until the chips were destroyed.

Under Wraith's hand, the vessel shimmied through hostile fire and wave after wave of enemy ships. Their vessel took a few more blows as they closed the distance to the facility, but they made it close enough to see port windows and hangar bay doors, all heavily shielded against their entrance.

Anakin's eyes flicked over the facility as it grew in front of them, the distance between them closing fast. Nothing would prove an easy entry point. He turned aside to another console and pulled up a schematic projection of the overall facility and concentrated on the area where they would infiltrate. He pulled the station apart, from the outer wall to its inner workings and inspected all the minor nuances and details: the steel frameworks, the wiring, the shield positions.

Another blast slammed into their vessel, and the lights flickered, only to be replaced by a red warning light.

"Uh-oh," Jesse said, though not with any hint of concern.

"They took out an engine," Wraith muttered. "We need to get inside."

_"They're coming at you fast,"_ Master Plo said through the coms. _"Skywalker, behind you!"_

Wraith dipped the ship a moment too late. Another explosion rocked the craft and knocked all of them into seats or against nearby railings or consoles. Anakin crouched for a moment, both hands gripping the console in front of him, and then he stood and looked to the facility. Brilliant flashes of blaster fire stung his tired eyes, but Anakin stared beyond the blinking colors to the station and its walls. He recognized the patterns of windows, doors, and landing platforms from the schematics he'd reviewed.

"There," Anakin said, and he pointed at a row of port windows far above a shielded hangar bay and just below a ridge of defensive weaponry that hadn't yet started firing. "Beneath the ridge. Land there."

"Land there," Wraith echoed, and he frowned at Anakin. "In that solid wall?"

"The framework is weaker there because of the port windows and extensive wiring to the weapons and nearby broadcasting tower," Anakin explained, and he let his hand fall from where he was pointing. Another blast struck them and nearly took him off his feet. He leaned against one of the consoles now dark from the damage. "If we go in at an angle, we should break through while sustaining minimal damage to our bridge."

"Minimal—" Wraith shook his head in bewilderment. "I heard you had a reputation, but…" He raised an eyebrow and shot Rex a pointed look. "Who is this kid?"

Rex passed Anakin a sideways glance and shuffled in place. Anakin had no right to give orders, and Rex had no reason to listen.

"This _kid_ is really good at crashing, don't worry." Rex slipped on his helmet, and Jesse and most of the others on the bridge did the same. "Do as he says. Take us in!"

Wraith heaved a sigh and shook his head, but he adjusted course as ordered.

Anakin kept a hand on the back of Wraith's seat and kept his eyes forward. The slight change of trajectory did little to remove them from the fray. Blaster fire and torpedoes fired on them, deflected only by shields and Master Plo's forces darting around them. Another torpedo rocked their vessel and gave them a serious jolt, and those who weren't sitting abruptly staggered into walls and consoles.

"This is insane," Wraith grumbled over the sound of explosions towards the back of their ship. "We'll never make it in one piece!" He shifted the controls in rapid bursts but couldn't dodge the hail of fire pouring over them. The controls of the ship lurched in his hand—they'd lost something important, and they still had a ways to go.

_"Skywalker, where are you going? The rendezvous point is to your southeast,"_ Master Plo said over the comlink.

"Detour," Anakin said, and he pushed at Wraith's shoulder. He had no sense of alarm in their current circumstances, only a dire need to take control. One of his many fatal flaws: the constant need for utter, complete control. He berated himself for it, but it was too late now. "Let me take over."

"Are you out of your literal mind?" Somehow Wraith said it without an ounce of disrespect, only the bewilderment of a man who had no idea how they would get through this alive, let alone in the hands of someone they all assumed a monster and traitor. His helmeted head spun in Rex's direction. "Commander, you can't seriously expect us to go through with this? I signed up for danger, but this is suicide! And for what? On the orders of some thrill-seeking little punk who we know has a death wish?"

Anakin flinched, and he shuddered at the words and the cold tone.

"Says one punk about another," Ice said, coolly. He continued to fire on the enemies, but ten more appeared in the wake of any they destroyed. His comment did nothing to diffuse the tension in the air.

Anakin didn't expect anyone to trust him, least of all men who had never worked alongside him. But Rex's hesitation stung. The silence lingered.

"Do what he says," Rex said, words smooth and steady, and he took a seat.

"But—"

"That's an order!"

Wraith slammed his hands on the console but rose from his seat. He stepped aside and found a chair in the far back, where he slumped.

Anakin slid into the pilot's seat and took control of the ship. He tipped the vessel side to side, testing its weight, its responsiveness, and its limitations. Systems failed, and it had lost most of its mobility, but it would suffice. A few blaster bolts smattered the viewport window, and that was all he would allow. He flicked the vessel sideways, slid between two oncoming enemy fighters, and then barrel-rolled under another batch of foes that exploded right over their heads.

"Take a seat, boys, and enjoy the ride," Jesse said. He plopped into a seat beside Rex and casually folded his hands over his stomach. "It's like an amusement park ride where you have a 50/50 chance of dying. And the fireworks are spectacular."

A few men chuckled. Someone else cursed—someone with an inflection that Anakin didn't recognize.

Anakin twisted and spun their nugget of a vessel closer to the station and deeper into the fray. He assumed only stumps for wings remained, thus his mobility was limited. Every time he tipped sideways, someone behind him let out a restrained and garbled curse of surprise. Rookies.

"Hold on," Anakin told them. Another explosion shook them, but he'd already compensated for a little drag as they sank towards the wall. Almost all of the lights went dark on the ship save the flashing warning lights alerting them that, very soon, they were all going to die. "We're going in. It's gonna be bumpy!"

A stark gray wall greeted them, and Anakin spun the controls at the last moment. Their lump of a ship twisted and slammed into the line of windows at rapid speed. The wall of the facility shattered while the side of their ship crunched inwards. A cloud of smoke swirled over them and glaring red lights flashed at them in harmony with the blaring alarms.

Portions of the station crumpled as it momentarily lost pressure, and then emergency locks and shields engaged to stabilize the area. Their vessel slid and eventually came to a stop, though the viewport was dented and shattered, making it impossible to see where they'd landed. From the schematics he'd looked over before departing the flagship, he assumed they'd landed in one of many storage areas or leisure suites where temporary occupants of the station could kill time.

"See?" Jesse rose from his seat and nodded at Wraith. "Wasn't that fun?"

Wraith remained plastered in his chair, as did several of the other men.

Rex led the way off the ship and into the battered storage area where they'd landed. Half the massive room had been ripped away by the pull of space before being successfully sealed. A heap of metal crates decorated one whole wall along with shredded metal and wires. Their vessel didn't look much better. It was nothing more than a twisted pile of scrap at that point.

"The control station should be near the center of the facility," Rex said, and he pulled up a holo map of the station. Their position flashed red, and he waved his finger along a corridor to the right and pointed at a large door at the far right side of the room. "We'll take the long route through. That'll give the others time to rendezvous with us."

Anakin glanced between the map and at a door on the left side of the room. The left side took them the shortest route through the facility but was full of corridors near security checkpoints and high-profile areas. Places where ray shields and other traps could most easily be set. And yet it stuck in Anakin's mind as the correct way to go. They didn't have time to waste. Every moment they lingered, more clones died as slaves in Sidious' twisted games. The right side was ideal, the perfect place to spread out, including smaller rooms to avoid blaster fire, but it rubbed Anakin the wrong way.

"We should go left," Anakin said without a hint of command. He knew he had no right, no place, to tell them to do anything.

"Left?" Rex scanned the map again, then passed a glance at the door.

"We have to go right," Wraith said, and he was already halfway to the far door, blaster up and ready. "We received our orders on the command ship. We take this route and reconvene with the others. It's the longest and therefore most likely to be safest _._ They wouldn't booby trap where they didn't think we'd go."

Anakin stared at the map until Rex switched it off.

"I can't explain it, but… we need to go left. I just… need you to trust me." Anakin looked to Rex, Jesse, and then the rest of the men.

At first, no one responded. A few passed each other looks, but their helmets concealed their expressions.

A dreadful feeling gnawed in Anakin's gut, though he didn't think it was instinct or the Force. It turned his stomach, made him ill. He'd made a suggestion, asked for trust, and they had no reason to give it. And if Anakin was wrong, as he was very prone to being, he could cost them their lives. All of them. In another lifetime, he had already brought about their demise—by his ignorance, he condemned them all.

"No, actually," Anakin said, waffling between what he felt was right—to go left—and what he felt would be a mistake—the original orders they'd been given. "We should—nevermind." Heat burned from his neck to his cheeks to his ears. What a miserable disaster he'd become. Rather, that he was all along but had learned to hide so well until now.

Again the clones exchanged looks, and finally the majority proceeded to the right, as intended.

"We go left," Rex said, stopping them all in their tracks. He turned and led the way to Anakin's chosen door.

"Commander!" an exasperated Wraith shouted. "We have our orders. We can't simply follow the whims of this traitor, murderer, Sith—boy!"

"We have our orders but also our free will to change plans accordingly," Rex said, a chilling bite to his tone. He faced Wraith, and even under helmet and armor, Wraith visibly wilted. Rex asked Anakin, "Are you certain, sir? To the left?"

Anakin swallowed hard, sick and miserable and desperate to not be wrong. Not for pride or arrogance, but because he couldn't bear to be the reason they died. But the annoying prick of instinct pummeled at the back of his mind, and when he thought of doing otherwise, of going right instead of left, he only felt all the more ill. Left was correct. They had to go left.

"As certain as I can be," he said, his eyes to the floor, shoulders slumped.

Rex didn't make a sound, didn't move.

"To the left. Let's move!" he barked at his men.

"We also like to improvise a lot," Jesse added, lightly. Wraith lingered longer than the rest.

"I'll go first," Anakin said, and he hurriedly moved to the front of the group. If he got them in trouble, he would take the brunt of it and be there to get them out of it.

"I would expect no less, sir." Rex dipped his head and let Anakin lead.


	24. Unpleasant Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are great, I legit love hearing your thoughts on the story and what you think is going on and where the story is going. So fun for me!! Thank you, always, for all forms of support. Thank you for reading!! Please continue to enjoy~~

Obi-Wan led his team down the long corridors of the broadcasting station. Entering the facility had been easy enough with most of their enemies focused on Anakin, though his unit had the longest route to get to the central computing systems at the top of the facility. Master Plo had informed him that all other teams had successfully entered the station, though he mentioned Anakin made a curious showing of it.

A hint of Anakin's antics making an appearance was a good thing. Probably.

They ran unhindered until they reached an intersection of corridors and a lone figure cloaked in black stepped into their path. At first, the dark shroud screamed of Sidious, though the signature in the Force felt different. Familiar. Obi-Wan slid to a stop, so the men behind him did likewise. The figure slipped back his hood and revealed a familiar red face, horns, and eyes aflame with hatred.

Obi-Wan's entire body went rigid, and he had his hand on his lightsaber before he even realized he'd moved. Of all people to stand in his path, it had to be Maul. For what reason in the whole of the galaxy was Maul doing aiding Sidious' efforts?

"I have been waiting for you, Kenobi," Maul said, though without much pleasure. He let his cloak flutter to the floor and drew his dual-bladed lightsaber. The blades ignited in brilliant flashes of red.

"Go," Obi-Wan said to the men. "Get to the central facility and help Anakin."

"Sir!" came the chorus of replies, and the troops moved on without him. They turned away from Maul and went a different direction.

Maul did nothing, stared past them to Obi-Wan without moving or even blinking. Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and waited for his men to pass to safety.

"You don't seem the type to go crawling back to your master," Obi-Wan said, lightly.

"He plays his games and I play mine," Maul replied, and he dipped his head as though about to charge at Obi-Wan with his horns.

Obi-Wan frowned. He stepped forward, and Maul did the same. They reached the center of the intersection and walked a tight circle in opposite directions. The buzz of their lightsabers and the taps of their careful footsteps reverberated in the long corridors, ominously deafening.

"Why are you here?" Obi-Wan finally asked.

Maul's presence made little sense, particularly when Sidious would benefit. Sidious had discarded Maul as he had discarded Dooku. For Anakin.

Maul grinned, wild and feral.

"Revenge."

He lunged and swung his lightsaber. In the tight space, the long blades caught and seared through the metal walls. They cut straight through as he spun them around, and Obi-Wan answered with his own blade, deflecting one red blade and then the other, at least half a dozen times. Maul pushed him back with a violent whirlwind of swings, but only barely. Obi-Wan kept his balance and spun his own lightsaber from one hand to the other, over and under his wrist, to catch every blow. He slammed Maul back with a Force push, but Maul answered with one of his own, and they repelled each other into opposite corridors.

"I will take everything you hold dear," Maul said, and he rolled back his shoulders and dipped his head one way and then another. He straightened, lifted his nose at him. "I took your Master and your woman. Now I will take your boy."

The familiar flame of anger sparked to life in Obi-Wan's chest, but he snuffed it out. It would not serve him well in a fight with Maul—he'd nearly lost several times because of it.

"A mighty boast," he said, resolutely collected, and shuffled back to the intersection where they circled again.

"Everything is already in motion. You do not realize there is nothing you can do." Maul flipped his lightsaber in hand, the whir of energy intensifying with every motion, and he occasionally clipped the walls until a cloud of smoke hung over their heads. "I will not kill Skywalker, though… No, instead, he will fall."

Obi-Wan halted, his grip on his lightsaber tightening. He had to unclench his jaw, having not realized for a moment that he gritted his teeth.

Maul offered up a tiny smile.

"His self-destructive dive into the dark side will harm you significantly more than his death, will it not?"

Obi-Wan dove at him, tired of the dialogue that managed to worm its way under his skin. He blocked it out, severed it from his emotions, and focused on the fight at hand. The words lingered anyway, thorns in his flesh, a cage around his mind. He slashed his lightsaber down from above, forcing Maul to raise his own blade, and then he kicked the former Sith in the abdomen and sent him staggering.

Obi-Wan pursued and swept his blade at Maul in several short, clean strokes. Maul bobbled both ends of his lightsaber, back and forth, to deflect the blows and then flipped backwards. Obi-Wan dove after him, unrelenting, and gave him no time to catch his footing. Showing off, arrogance, would be Maul's downfall. Maul didn't even stagger, though, and caught Obi-Wan's blade on his own. They pinned each other's lightsabers between them, locked together. Both shoved their weight against each other until they came face to face and Obi-Wan could feel the heat of Maul's breath.

A wretched gleam leaped through Maul's eyes.

"How does it feel knowing a Sith Lord groomed the boy right under your nose?"

Obi-Wan slammed Maul with the Force and threw him off balance. He lunged at him and swung in another tight flurry of strikes, the anger bubbling up again. He didn't bother fending it off. It moved his feet and strengthened his blows. Maul backpedaled down the corridor.

"You are angry because it is true. You were given the Chosen One and you in turn gave him to a vile monster." A smile crept to the corners of Maul's lips. "What do you think Sidious told him in those moments you looked the other way?"

Obi-Wan gripped his lightsaber in both hands, raised it, and slammed it down on Maul with all his might. Maul turned up his own blade to catch the blow but slid back a meter from the sheer strength of it. Maul grinned, unfazed.

"What did Sidious make him believe when you turned a blind eye?" Maul asked. When Obi-Wan slashed downwards at him again, he reverse lunged. "How deeply did the Sith Lord wound the boy who should have been safe in your care?"

Familiar rage burst to life in Obi-Wan despite his best efforts to quell it. It felt the same as when Qui-Gon died. It was an all-encompassing and consuming monster, something he couldn't control. He recognized it from Anakin's memories, too. It was a devouring beast, and it would destroy him if he let it. He smothered it even as Maul's words burrowed deep in his heart.

Maul stepped backwards and lured Obi-Wan deeper down the corridor. Perhaps a trap had been set, but Obi-Wan felt no inkling of the Force beneath his kindling anger.

"Skywalker's fall is inevitable. As Darth Vader, he will destroy Sidious once and for all—I will make sure of it." Maul said, and he twirled his blade in a flashy red figure eight. Always with the showy displays.

"Anakin will not fall," Obi-Wan said, though he felt less than certain. "I have learned from my mistakes—"

"You are twelve years too late, Kenobi. The damage is done." Maul grinned and spoke with conviction. And, wretchedly, for an instant, Obi-Wan believed him. "You already lost him."

Again, Obi-Wan attacked, and their blades met between them, locked, unmoving. He withdrew and struck again, only to the same effect. The tight space of the corridor left much to be desired. Obi-Wan should have had some advantage over Maul's outrageously clunky weapon, but Maul kept slicing through the walls without concern.

Frustrated with the back and forth and the banter, Obi-Wan jumped back, cut his own sheet of metal off the wall, and hurled it with the Force at Maul. Maul's mouth gaped in apparent surprise, but he cut the metal out of the air with his blade. Obi-Wan slashed apart several chunks of wall and threw them at his foe, carefully making his way back. He hadn't come to be lured away by Maul. In his anger, he'd been distracted.

An explosion erupted behind and to the side, the roar of flames and the screeching of tearing metal echoing through the corridors. Obi-Wan staggered as the floor lurched. Maul tumbled backwards, but his eyes went wide, his lips parted in a twisted smile.

"There go the bombs." He took several small steps back and away from Obi-Wan. "It is almost as if we knew exactly at what time you would arrive and from where you would enter." His head tipped, the grin growing. "How difficult it must be to not know whom you can trust during times like these. Traitors may be in your midst at every turn, and they all wear the same face. How would you ever know?"

A knot tightened in Obi-Wan's stomach. His anger abated, his connection to the Force secured, and his instincts kicked back in. He whirled towards the corridor where he should have been, where he sent his men ahead of him. A plume of smoke and embers swirled down the corridor.

"My work here is finished." Maul disengaged his lightsaber and slipped it into his belt. He retreated several steps. "Remember, Kenobi: the best traps are the ones you never realize are traps at all." He turned and fled down the corridor.

Obi-Wan took two steps after him and stopped.

In another lifetime, he had been lured into a trap by Sidious and Grievous. It was a trap he never realized was a trap until now, in another life, when he had all the pieces to put together. Sidious sent Obi-Wan to chase after Grievous so Anakin would question his worth and so Anakin would be alone at his most vulnerable moment.

Only Master Windu would be with him at the end. Just like now.

A shiver went up Obi-Wan's spine. He spun and retraced his steps to the intersection of corridors and went instead the way the rest of his team had gone. He met a wall of billowing smoke and embers. Before long, he found a gaping hole in the floor. Ash and charred black marks smeared the walls as far as the eye could see, suggesting dozens of different explosions. Blood splattered the floor at Obi-Wan's feet. Through the haze of smoke and the flames licking through the tubing below, a leg dangled, tangled in the wires. A leg without a body.

He turned abruptly and went the other way. He used his comlink to draw up the map of the facility. He'd have to take the long way around, but he had to get to that central console. Maul was a distraction, not a priority. He stuffed down his anger and trusted the Force to get him where he needed to go. Trusted it to take him through a minefield if it had to in order to get him to Anakin.

If something happened to Anakin or his device, the clones would be without hope. They all would be without hope.


	25. To Save Them All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for your continued support and for reading. You are very much appreciated~~

Anakin and his team reached the central operating area of the facility. They met only a few groups of droids during their long trek through the corridors and easily broke through them. Anakin led the way and brushed aside the door leading to the most central room.

Inside was a sprawling tower that went levels below and above them, with computers on every level. A broad, open turbolift traveled between levels.

Grievous stood on the turbolift, metal hands folded behind his back, and faced them as they entered. Anakin drew his lightsaber, but the droid general made no move for his weapons.

"Skywalker," Grievous said, smoothly, without alarm. "I should have known you would find a way down the wrong corridors." He tilted his head as Anakin frowned. "It is no matter. Surrender. You are heavily outnumbered." The droid general waved his hand, and doors on every level above and below them opened.

Droids and clones rushed in and aimed their blasters at Anakin and his team. Armor clattered behind Anakin as his team lifted blasters and took offensive positions, but they would succeed at nothing with their minimal numbers. He almost gave the order to retreat, but something stifled the thought the moment it came to his mind.

Even with their allies closing in from other directions, they would remain outnumbered. Even if Master Plo broke in to help, they'd lose. Yet Anakin didn't feel worried at all. Peace settled over him. He was exactly where he needed to be.

Rumbles erupted from elsewhere in the facility, drawing the attention of Grievous. Anakin glanced to the right and to the left and frowned. Explosions boomed through the durasteel walls and reverberated along the floor, echoes of distant battles. Grievous unleashed a wet and slimy chuckle and leaned with both hands on the railing of the turbolift. The lift rose to the next level, allowing him to glare down at them, a ring of his troops on the ledges around him.

Grievous' troops turned their blasters on Anakin, and Anakin's men adjusted their weapons accordingly, ready to return fire. Anakin's attention shifted to the reflection on the metal of the turbolift shaft. At the far back of his group, several but not all of the clones aimed their weapons forward. Not at Grievous, not at the enemies above and below them, but at Anakin, Rex, and the few men directly between them.

"Rex, get down!" Anakin whipped around and pushed with the Force. He hit not only Rex but the five men nearest to him, and all of them flew aside and hit the ground in a clatter of armor.

A blaster fired, and Anakin managed to shift his position after taking down his comrades. The bolt ripped across his shoulder, searing skin and clothes. Anakin stumbled from the hit but kept his feet, and in seconds, Rex and the others gathered near him, their own weapons turned on the clones at the back of their group.

Appo stood with his blaster smoking. Wraith, Ice, and several others joined him and aimed their weapons at Anakin.

"Appo," Anakin said in disbelief. "Why?"

"It's nothing personal, sir. Just…" Appo gave a slight shrug, and genuine remorse muddied his words. "The galaxy has shown now what it thinks of us clones. And knowing what we know of the future, what's in store for us, this just makes more sense."

"Traitors," Rex said with a snarl. "You have betrayed the Republic!"

"The Republic doesn't exist anymore, Commander," Appo shouted. Hurt painted his words. "It hasn't existed in years. We have nothing."

Appo spoke as one backed into a corner. Anakin understood that feeling well and pitied him for it. The feeling of having no other options and nowhere to turn.

"Surrender, Skywalker. You are surrounded," Grievous demanded from his high platform.

"That's where you are mistaken. Grievous. We have _you_ surrounded." Anakin glared up at him.

"You mean the other rodents scurrying about in the facility?" Grievous chuckled again. "Your friends had unfortunate incidents with the bombs we planted to greet you."

A flash of worry swept over Anakin, but it was short-lived. He would have known if Obi-Wan died. Wouldn't he?

"Bombs?" The voice of Master Windu echoed from above. He appeared through a door on an upper level.

On the same level as him, dozens of clones broke through different doors and took out enemy clones and droids until they'd secured the entire floor. Master Windu flipped a slim circular device, similar to a landmine, in his hand.

"You mean these bombs?" he asked, and then he clicked something on the device and hurled it onto Grievous' level. Several of his team presented their own circular devices, activated them, and hurled them below.

Explosions erupted throughout the tower. Smoke and metal debris filled the air, and blaster fire followed. Clones and droids fired on each other, and Master Windu hopped down and started clearing the level directly beneath him. Anakin stared as Grievous and the turbolift went up and as clones, droids, and chunks of walls and floors poured down. At some point, something whizzed past his head, and a hand grabbed the back of his tunic and yanked him sideways. Rex and—was that Coric?—dragged him down, and Anakin didn't bother resisting. A portion of the level directly above them snapped, and the mesh metal floor tipped, all its supportive frames shattering. It dumped a handful of destroyers over their heads.

Anakin cut through several droids, noted that Rex and his team had Appo and the others well in hand, and then Force jumped to the broken upper platform that tipped just within his reach. Someone shouted a frustrated "Skywalker!" at him from below, but he ignored it.

Blaster bolts whizzed past him, and Anakin used his borrowed lightsaber to flick some of the closer calls away from him and towards the next level up. He directed the sizzling energy into the metal frames of the platforms, melting them. After several successful hits, the level above broke away and slanted downwards, allowing him to jump and climb it like a ramp.

Anakin rose higher and higher, closing in on Grievous and what appeared to be the mainframe computer. He downed several droids on each level as he climbed and flung aside clones with the Force. Not knowing who was a traitor and who was controlled by a chip, Anakin didn't want to kill anyone.

Anakin reached the ledge just beneath the turbolift, and Grievous stared down at him, waiting for his next move. Anakin didn't dare leap to join Grievous without a little distraction or he'd be likely to get a lightsaber, or four, to the chest. Instead, he used the Force and grappled at the bolts holding the turbolift in place. He yanked them out and dropped the turbolift several meters and threw Grievous off balance. At the same time, Anakin ran across his platform, built speed, and leaped to the next level.

"Give it up, Skywalker," Grievous said. He ignited all four lightsabers and lunged from the tilted turbolift to the mesh floor, his metal feet clanking with every step. "You are doomed to fail in this lifetime same as the alternate future—your resistance is futile."

"Strange," Anakin said, and he spun his lightsaber before steadying it in both hands, "If I recall correctly, I at least live the next twenty or so years. The same can't be said of you."

Grievous made a gargling sound in his throat and let out a wheeze, and then he dove forward, all four lightsabers swirling in a dazzling whirlwind of blue and green. The blades sliced through the mesh floor and left glowing scars. Anakin lowered his stance into a crouch, ready to spring forward. He watched the twists and turns of Grievous' blades, of the movements allowed by his mechanical wrists, the speed with which he moved, and potential limitations. Overall, he was an admirable foe.

Obi-Wan had a curious fight with him in the future, with an even more curious finale.

Anakin tilted right. Though Grievous' whirring blades didn't cease, he adjusted to meet Anakin's feint only enough that Anakin was able to slip his lightsaber between Grievous' blades and shove upwards. Grievous dipped back a few centimeters, and Anakin slid his blade down and severed Grievous' lower right hand. He claimed the fallen lightsaber for himself and used the Force to hurl Grievous' fallen limb into his face. Grievous deflected it and growled.

"Jedi scum," Grievous said with a hiss, and he flipped his three blades in hands before catching and stilling them. No more arrogant and showy displays, apparently.

"Sorry to disappoint," Anakin replied, and he whirled one lightsaber and then the other. "I'm not a Jedi anymore."

Anakin lunged at Grievous, swinging one blade and then the other. Grievous answered with ease. Despite Grievous having three blades and Anakin two, Anakin kept his pace, deflected every swing Grievous launched at him, with nary a struggle. Anakin managed to push Grievous along the mesh platform towards the ledge that ran around the entirety of the circular room.

Time seemed to slow. Grievous' blades whirred, but Anakin saw the direction they slashed and twisted before they shifted and turned. Blaster bolts hurled past, but he saw them, felt the hair stand on the back of his neck if they drew too close, and dipped to the side to evade. Meanwhile, he snatched the metal frame of the platform behind Grievous and twisted it out of place, tipping the entire platform on which they stood.

Anakin and Grievous slid as the mesh metal under their feet crashed down. Anakin dug in his heel and lunged backwards, but Grievous toppled, his lightsabers flailing. For good measure, Anakin gave Grievous a gentle nudge with the Force and sent him plummeting several levels. Grievous disengaged his lightsabers and landed on three hands and two feet, like some sort of animal. His head swiveled up, scowling at Anakin, and then several clones engaged him in battle.

Anakin took advantage of the moment and ran to the central computer. It was already powered, broadcasting various signals across the galaxy, all of which Anakin disengaged. He didn't want any distractions. The computer was fully operational and would only need the frequency card from out of Anakin's device. It already had all the other necessary pieces to get the job done.

As Anakin drew the device out of his tunic and removed the back cover to access the card, he stopped. It was convenient. Too convenient. He glanced at Grievous.

The droid general flung a few clones over the ledge and marched to the turbolift shaft. He mounted it and started climbing, his body twisting and contorting like an insect, and he paused frequently to deflect fire from blasters. His movements seemed so slow compared to the fight he'd just had with Anakin. Like he was taking his time to get back.

If Anakin had been in Grievous' situation, had traitors in place to monitor the Republic and intercept their plans, what would he do? Just like the bombs meant to greet their entrance into the facility, he'd set a trap. All it would take would be destroying the card or the device. Without either, they'd be stuck in the facility—in hostile airspace—with an army of mind-controlled clones overwhelming them. They wouldn't have time to do anything else.

Anakin left the card in the device and slid it back into his tunic. He adjusted the settings on the central computer to a wide-range frequency, similar to what he would use from his device, and set the computer to broadcast one of the pre-existing recordings from the HoloNet database. Ironically, it was one of the more recent, about the shocking unveiling of Chancellor Palpatine as Darth Sidious.

Thankfully, they didn't have to listen to it. As soon as Anakin set the recording to transmit, the computer sparked and burst into flames. The card reader where he would have connected his device sizzled and popped, buttons burst out of their sockets, and fire washed from one end of the computer to the other.

Grievous leaped over the edge of the platform and laughed. His lightsabers burst to life in his hands.

"Give it up, Skywalker. You have lost."

Anakin took hold of his own lightsabers and prodded one into the mainframe computer, directly into the empty card reader. Grievous noticed the empty slot.

"Nice try," Anakin said.

Grievous growled, and Anakin could just hear the words on his lips: _Jedi scum_. He didn't say them aloud, but they were definitely trying to come out.

"No matter. Your reinforcements aren't coming," Grievous said, and he flicked his right lightsaber in a tight circle. He waved it vaguely in the air. "Without this computer, there is nothing you can do. You would have to reach all four towers to send your signal anywhere useful, and every centimeter of this facility is lined with bombs, inside and out. Even if you managed to reach one tower, your precious clones will kill you before you reach the others."

"Thanks for the info," Anakin said, as lightly as he could, but a weight crushed him under the hopelessness of the situation. His mind scrambled between alternatives, but they would do little with the clones and droids bearing down on them. They needed to set the clones free.

His thoughts went to the device tucked in his tunic, to the computers scattered around the facility. To the wires that surely bound the mainframe computer to the rest of the systems in the facility. Everything had to be connected to it somehow. The computer may have fried, but Anakin's device already had its own circuit board and power source. He didn't technically need the computer itself, just the towers, now seemingly so far away… and yet so close. The wires had to be close. They had to come to the mainframe computer. They wouldn't transmit otherwise. He imagined the map of the facility in his mind, the walls, the frames holding the facility together.

Anakin barely noticed Grievous lunging at him and moved his right lightsaber to deflect the first several blows without conscious effort. Grievous swung relentlessly with all three of his blades, and Anakin responded but slid back to compensate for the violent, rapid assault. Anakin parried a strike and feinted left, but Grievous was onto him and backpedaled, then slashed into the space between them and cut through the mesh floor. It jerked beneath them, and both staggered.

Blaster fire whistled behind Anakin's head. More enemy clones and droids poured into the central tower from levels on all floors. Friendly forces were quickly being overwhelmed. Master Windu smashed through a group of droids, kicked a few enemy clones off the ledge—they fell, presumably alive, to the level below—and worked his way around to the next group of droids.

Far below, Jesse and the 501st struggled against the treacherous clones and a handful of destroyers that rolled into the room, shields flashing. Rex was on a higher level, and he shot his grappling hook, swung and kicked his way through a line of hostile clones, and then hit one of the ramps Anakin had climbed. He ascended it, albeit less gracefully than Anakin had done.

Grievous swung two blades down over Anakin's head, and Anakin swept his right blade up to catch and hold them both. The weight nearly made his knees buckle, and his legs trembled until he adjusted his footing to compensate. Grievous' final blade swung from the side, and Anakin twisted his left lightsaber to stop it centimeters from his abdomen. Grievous bore down on him, bending Anakin's knees under his weight.

Grievous' metal body made him a lot stronger and heavier than Anakin's flesh limbs could handle, but the droid general didn't have the Force. Anakin grappled at a ledge above them and tore the entire mesh platform down on their heads. Grievous let out a garbled sound of surprise and fell back to avoid it as clones and droids rained down. Anakin grabbed the next nearest level and plucked it out of the wall as well, hurling it at his enemy. Grievous cut through it with his lightsabers, and the metal toppled harmlessly around him.

Anakin ripped metal off walls, tore apart platforms, and hurled them at Grievous. One smashed into Grievous, and the droid general slid backwards under its weight. He caught it and threw it back at Anakin with the full force of his metal body. Anakin tossed it back with the Force along with another section of wall, another platform, whatever he could reach. He even threw a droid.

A door opened on the same level as Anakin, and he whirled as destroyers rolled out and opened fire on him. He deflected fire and then ripped the platform out from beneath them, but the distraction had been enough. Grievous launched a metal post at him like a primitive yet lethal spear. Anakin severed a part of it, caught the rest, and threw it back along with another sheet of metal off the wall.

Grievous cut the sheet of metal but missed the post. It stabbed through his armor and stuck, but he laughed. It hadn't gone deep enough. Grievous cut the platform under Anakin's feet and tipped it, and the unsteady flooring tore completely and sent Anakin skidding straight towards Grievous' waiting blades. Anakin scrambled to catch himself and lost both lightsabers in the process. They clattered and rolled from level to level until they were out of sight. Obi-Wan would not be happy with him. Anakin slammed both hands on the mesh floor and dug in his heels. He jumped backwards with the Force to avoid getting his legs hacked off by Grievous and landed on tilted flooring a level above Grievous.

Anakin glanced a heap of bodies and droids below and used the Force to steal a blaster from the pile. He grappled the pole still lodged in Grievous' chest, though Grievous had cut most of it away, and Anakin yanked with all the power he could muster from the Force.

The post ripped outwards and tore a hole in Grievous' armor, revealing his naked core.

Anakin aimed the blaster, as Obi-Wan had done in another time, but his finger froze on the trigger. Memories flooded his mind of his life as Darth Vader and of the lives he had taken without remorse. His vision blurred as the visions flickered to life and consumed his thoughts. He pushed back against them, but that only resulted in them getting louder. If he didn't do this, countless people would die. His finger twitched but couldn't squeeze the trigger. Darth Vader continued his march through Anakin's mind.

Grievous regained his balance and glanced at the hole in his chest. He whirled his lightsabers, ready to defend the opening, and glared at Anakin. He chuckled, wet, slimy, and fully aware Anakin faltered. He spun one lightsaber, then another, and then a blaster bolt fired between the blades and slammed into Grievous' chest. The droid general unleashed a horrific roar before he burst in his own miniature explosion.

Anakin glanced at his blaster and flung it aside, his heart racing. He hadn't remembered pulling the trigger. He hadn't felt it fire. Something drew his attention behind him. Obi-Wan stood on a level beneath him, a smoking blaster in his hand. Obi-Wan tossed the weapon aside, and Anakin almost heard the words: _So uncivilized_. Clones and droids engaged Obi-Wan in battle.

Droids swarmed Anakin, but Anakin broke the platform and sent them toppling while he lunged upwards towards the mainframe computer, towards one of the highest points in the central tower.

His head throbbed and his muscles burned. His entire body felt like deadweight. The Force could be used, but maybe not quite like he was using it.

Anakin climbed to the mainframe computer still awash with flames and searched from one side of the circular room to the other. Lightheadedness came over him, a dizziness amplified by blaster fire, flashing lights, and an endless haze of smoke. He grabbed a steady portion of the computer with one hand and drew his device from his tunic with the other. It glowed gold in the light of the flames.

He plucked the back off the device and let it fall away. If they didn't succeed then and there, they wouldn't escape alive to use the device again. It was do or die, and Anakin wouldn't let more clones die. He set the device on the console in front of him, away from the sparks and the fire, and leaned with a hand on either side of it. For support, for focus. To keep from falling. He closed his eyes.

Anakin imagined the map of the facility, and then he reached out into the endless blur of energy, of connections, of power that was the Force. He let his mind touch the walls of the room, he let his mind move past the walls. His existence melted into the wires that ran and spread in every direction. He followed them from the central point of the computer outwards in four different ways, up and out to each of the broadcasting towers.

Pain lanced through the connection. Blinding flashes cut through his concentration. He pushed forward anyway. He ran through the wires and through the circuits that bound them to the computer. He needed the most direct link between the towers and the mainframe computer. He found the cluster of cables, dozens of them running to each tower. His mind sank in deeper. He found a single cable from each tower capable of transmitting everything he needed. The right power. The right frequency.

Anakin felt separate from his body, like he was watching from a distance. He raised his hands and clenched his fingers into fists, grappling the air. He pulled with his hands and with his mind, with the invisible strings of the Force that he tethered to the wires he needed. In every direction, metal sheets ripped off the walls and fell away.

Four enormous cords hurled through the air towards Anakin, and he caught them, two in each hand. His hands trembled as he fastened them to the circuit board of his device, neatly tying everything where it needed to go and connecting all the slight parts. A mistake would prove fatal for the clones, and he wouldn't allow it. He couldn't.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan's voice echoed.

Anakin found his former Master but couldn't quite catch his facial expression. Obi-Wan ran to the edge of the platform he was on and grabbed the railing in both hands. A red haze covered him—covered everything. Anakin's world blurred red.

"Anakin, hold on!" Obi-Wan shouted. An emotion tinged his words that Anakin couldn't distinguish through the explosions and buzz of blaster fire.

It didn't matter. Anakin finished fastening the device to the wires, to the four broadcasting towers. He swayed on his feet, his vision tunneling. Hot tears streaked his cheeks even though he didn't know why. Anakin looked to the clones, to the battle raging below him. And then he pushed the button.

The mainframe computer emitted an awful screech, so loud that Anakin's ears popped, and then darkness claimed him.


	26. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH, you guys. Seriously, your continued support of this story is so encouraging to me. I write for fun, but it really is a treat when others can enjoy the work I've done. I appreciate your support, whatever it might be. THANK YOU for reading!!

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan lunged up to the next level and used all the broken platforms as stairs. He'd made it halfway to Anakin before the computer flashed and sparked in a dozen different locations.

A high-pitched screech filled the tower, and every living being, right down to the clones in their helmets, dropped at the noise. Obi-Wan hit a sideways platform and rolled back down to the previous ledge, clutching his ears instead of grabbing for handholds. Jolts of electricity fired from the device in Anakin's hands up through the wires he'd ripped out of the walls.

A strange and eerie silence followed. Clones rubbed at their helmets and turned about as though in confusion. Droids did the same. A moment of hesitation and uncertainty followed. Then, as one, the clones turned their blasters from each other to the droids. Enemy clones turned ally. Anakin's plan had worked.

Obi-Wan rolled and looked up.

Anakin dropped the device, and the wires ripped away from it and fluttered uselessly to the walls of the room. Anakin leaned one way, then another, and then he fell backwards and straight off the platform.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan moved as if to try to catch him, but he'd never get anywhere close. Instead, he reached out with the Force, but Anakin fell too far and too fast for him to get a steady grip.

Rex flew out of nowhere with a grappling hook fixed to the turbolift shaft. He caught Anakin out of the air, and together they slammed into the metal shaft and fell the remaining length of Rex's cable before coming to an abrupt stop. Rex let out a curt shout at the sudden pull at his arm, but he held tight. The grappling hook slid from its position at the extra weight and the initial speed of their descent. It tore away and sent both men plummeting.

Obi-Wan, better oriented, slowed them with the Force. On the opposite side of the room, Master Windu did the same, and together, they safely lowered them to the ground floor. Obi-Wan lost no time descending the twisting maze of broken platforms to the lower level where Rex and Anakin had landed.

Several clones gathered around them. Near one of the main doors, a handful of clones, including Jesse, held blasters to other clones. Traitors, Obi-Wan belatedly realized. With most of the clones freed of their control, Master Windu and the others made quick work of the droids on every level.

"Good catch, Rex," Obi-Wan said as he drew near. "Are you all right?"

Still on the ground, Rex removed his helmet and rubbed at his shoulder.

"Just dislocated, I think," he said.

Anakin sprawled across his legs, and Rex used his good arm to turn him over. A second clone helped shift Anakin's dead weight—Coric.

"I think he took the worst of it," Rex added, and deep concern tinged his words.

Anakin had lost consciousness, but streaks of blood ran from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, same as it had before. Same as it had when he pushed himself too hard and too fast in Mos Espa. Same as it had when he used the Force in ways few others ever could—and then suffered for it.

"We need to get him to a medical facility," Coric said in haste, and he looked up at Obi-Wan. "He's going to need more than my little first aid kit."

"I'd say," Obi-Wan murmured, and he ran a hand across the full length of his face. Weighty exhaustion struck again. Anakin was going to be the death of him in more ways than one.

Master Windu approached and inspected the scene with the same stoic expression as always. Before he could speak a word, Master Plo's voice erupted from his comlink.

_"The droid forces are retreating. The clones have returned to us."_

"Good," Master Windu said, and he eyed Anakin, his brow furrowed slightly. "We need a medical transport back to the Temple immediately."

_"I'll arrange something,"_ Master Plo said without question.

"With respect, sir, but…" Rex rubbed at the back of his head, his attention shifting between Obi-Wan and Anakin. "What in blazes happened to him?"

"I'm not entirely certain." Obi-Wan glanced at Master Windu, who did not hastily offer any ideas. "This happened on Tatooine as well, when he used the Force in rather… unusual ways."

"Unusual," Rex said, and one eyebrow went up. "As in… _that_ sort of unusual."

It took a moment for Obi-Wan to connect the dots.

"No, no, he isn't using the dark side. At least I don't think so." He rubbed his face again, this time with both hands. "To be honest, I don't know what he did. I've never seen anything like it."

"Nor have I," Master Windu said, his frown darkening. "It was almost as if he attempted to become one with the Force—though still alive and with a physical body intact."

"Is that possible?" Coric asked, wide eyed. He paused at his work wiping the blood from Anakin's face.

"No," Master Windu replied in a clipped tone. He met eyes with Obi-Wan. "Thus we are seeing the repercussions of it."

Obi-Wan sank. Even when trying not to be a nuisance, Anakin still managed to find a way to cause mischief. But Obi-Wan couldn't fault his former Padawan for what he'd done, or attempted to do. Anakin's intentions had been just and right. He had saved the clones and likely all of them in the process. His heart was always in the right place, if only a little misguided in his way of going about things.

Coric pricked Anakin with a hypo in the neck and then let out a dismal sigh.

"His heart is racing. His blood is pumping so fast." He gave the tiniest shake of his head. "Plus a fever… He needs proper medical attention, quickly."

"He will be all right," Obi-Wan said, though he hoped to himself it was true. He'd witnessed this on Tatooine and had hauled Anakin back to some semblance of health with nothing but a poorly trained healer, a cold shower, and ample patience. Once on a ship with a proper medbay, Anakin would be well enough.

Near the main doors, clones exited with their treasonous brothers cuffed and under guard of blaster fire. Another team entered as they exited. Commander Wolffe led the way along with four clones carting a stretcher and a better sampling of medical equipment. They found and proceeded towards Anakin right away, and Rex and the others finally stepped back, leaving them to their work.

Two clones who had been with Anakin, their names eluding Obi-Wan, approached Obi-Wan with two lightsabers.

"General Skywalker dropped these," said one of them as he offered the weapons to Obi-Wan.

"Of course he did." Obi-Wan sighed. Some things would never change.

"See to it that Skywalker's device is safely returned," Master Windu said to Rex, Jesse, and the few others standing by. "If something didn't go quite as planned, we may still need it."

"Sir." Rex dipped his head in respect and departed with his men.

Obi-Wan watched as Wolffe's crew carted Anakin away on the stretcher. He knew that Anakin was in good hands, but his heart ached in a way it shouldn't.

Anakin had been through enough, and Obi-Wan still found himself unable to alleviate any of his former Padawan's burdens. Unable to heal his wounds, unable to cover the scars. Simply unable, and the powerlessness to do anything grated on him.

"Go with him," Master Windu said, his tone mild and soft. He waved his hand at the door. "I will send along Senator Amidala and her security detail as soon as we return to the ship."

Obi-Wan managed a faint smile and grateful nod. He started for the door.

"I'll leave tidying up here in your capable hands."

"How generous," Master Windu said, stone-faced and cold-toned.

Obi-Wan chucked and pursued the bunch that had taken off with Anakin.

\-----

They returned to Coruscant without difficulty. Same as he had on Tatooine, Anakin fully recovered from his adverse reaction to using whatever powers he'd harnessed. And, thankfully, they were able to keep him sedated and keep a steady influx of fluids into him. It was one of the first times Obi-Wan thought Anakin might make a complete recovery.

Anakin's plan had succeeded, and the clones throughout the galaxy had been freed of their control chips without consequence. Without their general, the droids retreated to the far corners of the galaxy, to the planets friendly to the Separatists, to places where Darth Sidious likely lurked. They hadn't seen any trace of him since Kamino.

Obi-Wan spent ample time in meditation at the Temple. He once again felt it his place, but a part of him also always remained with Anakin. They were inevitably two halves of one whole, it seemed, in the present and alternate timelines, always bound together. As such, Obi-Wan found himself torn between the Jedi, where Anakin would suffocate, and a life apart from the Order, where Anakin would better thrive.

In his heart, in his mind, in that place of peace where the Force guided him, he knew he would remain at Anakin's side, wherever their present course took him. At least, he thought, until Anakin posed no mortal danger to himself. Until the many harms had, to some degree, healed.

It was with those thoughts in mind that he entered the High Council chamber and stood in the center of the room. All others were present, though soon they would depart and the war would continue. The Empire did not exist, but the Separatists still did, and their desires remained the same. To a certain degree, though, the Senate took more time to listen. Without Sidious to taint their perceptions, they made greater efforts to quell the violence and find peaceful alternatives.

Without Sidious, the Republic yet had hope.

"Your position on the Council is yours for the taking," Master Windu said after some mild pleasantries, and he waved at the open seat that belonged to Obi-Wan. Golden sunlight spilled over the familiar chair. "Your efforts with Skywalker have been fruitful and your work commendable. We would see you reinstated, if you so desire."

Obi-Wan smiled, his arms folded in the billowing sleeves of his cloak. He once again wore his standard Jedi uniform, the heavy cloak a familiar weight on his shoulders, the weight of the lightsaber comfortable on his hip. Yet as he thought such things and inspected the seat waiting for him, he faltered.

"My intention has been to return," Obi-Wan said, and he stopped there.

It was difficult to express his sentiments without giving too much claim to attachment. For the first time, he felt he truly understood his former Master. Qui-Gon had been steadfastly faithful to the Jedi Order, and yet, he followed his own moral compass as he thought necessary, even when in direct conflict with the Order. In such a way, he had brought Anakin to them—not out of ill intentions, not out of rebellion, but merely because he believed it was the right thing to do. He thought it would benefit the galaxy and the Order, not harm them.

Obi-Wan stood in the center of that room and felt his attachment to Anakin mattered more than his duty to the Order. Rather, he felt they coincided. Both needed to exist for the future to be right, to be well. Anakin would see the Sith destroyed, that was no doubt. Qui-Gon had not been mistaken, and the Force had not been mistaken to give Anakin to Qui-Gon. Anakin needed to be there just as they needed to support him in all of his peculiarities and differences. Just as Qui-Gon would have done.

Without a doubt, Qui-Gon would have succeeded with Anakin where the rest had failed. Not because he was too attached, too rebellious… but because Qui-Gon still saw individuals in the midst of the masses. _For the greater good_ had become a limiting statement, something detrimental. It was a statement that would see Anakin sacrificed to destroy Sidious, with or without Anakin's consent.

"But," Master Windu said. He leaned forward in his seat and entwined his fingers between his knees.

"But I will go where Anakin goes," Obi-Wan replied, and no one responded. The entirety of the Council stared at him. No inkling of surprise touched a single one of them.

"Offer him his place in the Order, we will," Master Yoda said. "But for young Skywalker to decide, it is."

An unfamiliar warmth covered Master Yoda's weathered face and suggested he had come to similar conclusions as Obi-Wan. He had seen the future and had seen their shortcomings, too. He had lived them and had bore witness to Luke's love triumphing over Anakin's surrender to darkness. The Jedi Order was good, and powerful, and just, but it was not always right.

Qui-Gon had spent years trying to drill that into Obi-Wan's head. How pitiful that it took Obi-Wan a dozen years after his Master's death to finally understand what he had tried to teach him.

"You would reinstate him knowing what he has done?" Obi-Wan asked.

The Tusken camp he destroyed, his secret marriage to Padmé, all things that could lead to permanent expulsion from the Order. Though he understood Anakin's heart and intentions because of the visions shared between them, the Council had not seen what he'd seen. If Obi-Wan had not felt Anakin's suffering, had not seen the depth of Sidious' abuses, he likely would not have accepted Anakin at all.

Qui-Gon had spoken to him about it in the future. How the failures were not Anakin's alone. Obi-Wan hadn't understood then, but he did now.

"Skywalker is a danger to himself and to others," Master Windu explained. "It is in all of our best interests to ensure his… recovery."

The last word said with some hesitation.

"If that is the case, I have another request," Obi-Wan said. He steeled his face and tightened his fingers around his arms within his cloak. "If Anakin returns to the Order, I ask that you reinstate him only as my Padawan and not a Knight."

"Already a Knight, he is," Master Yoda said, his ears twitching, "and unheard of, it is, to demote one in rank within the Order short of expulsion."

"We promoted Anakin out of necessity because of the war." Obi-Wan bowed his head. He himself had pushed for Anakin's promotion. "Because he has and always will be exceptional—strong in the Force, brilliant in command. But I did not teach him what he needed most, because I was not aware he needed it. As such, I feel I have failed him as his Master, and I would like to rectify my failures."

"And what, per say, was he not taught?" Master Plo asked, genuine interest tinting his words.

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, a sad, tired smile creeping onto his lips. He deflated as the breath left him, and again the weight of exhaustion clung to him like his own shadow.

"How to be human," he said.

A few of the Council members exchanged glances. None countered him.

"Very well," Master Yoda said. "If young Skywalker agrees to these terms, again become your Padawan, he will. Though happy I think he will not be."

"Somehow, at this point, I think he will accept it well enough." Obi-Wan smiled, sad and tired, and then he dipped his head. "If there is nothing else, for now, I will take my leave."

Master Yoda nodded in dismissal, and Obi-Wan turned. As he did, he again looked upon the vacant seat that once and did belong to him, cast in beams of light from the massive windows spanning the room. It felt far away, somehow.

And yet, it didn't trouble him at all.


	27. Husband and Wife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the continued support, my friends!! You guys are the absolute best in every way possible~~!

Nightmares upon nightmares. Anakin woke from yet another onslaught of visions of his future self, of Darth Vader destroying everyone and everything. It had been constant since they'd returned to the Temple and he stirred the first time. Obi-Wan said it was likely because of the fever and his lack of sleep, but Anakin dreaded the sedatives they kept feeding him just the same. He couldn't escape from the nightmares as easily.

Sometimes he saw Senator Organa, with Leia in his arms, blow up and fly away into open space. This was usually immediately followed by an image of Bail running towards him, shouting something, and the entire room fading into oblivion behind a red screen. Such visions became more prevalent the longer Anakin rested.

He lay on his cot in the Halls of Healing and stared at the ceiling for what felt an eternity. Master Che had already removed the IV and every other blasted wire that had bound him in place for the last days, weeks, or months. He had no idea how long he'd been stuck there. Now that he had the opportunity, no longer tethered, he couldn't bother to move.

As if eerily aware of his hesitation, Master Che appeared in the doorway, scanned the room, and frowned at Anakin.

"While I do not mind lending a bed, Skywalker, you are no longer required to remain here," she said. "The remainder of your healing must be done the old-fashioned way: rest, nutritious meals, and exercise."

"I'm not that bad of company, am I?" Anakin asked, and he kept his eyes to the ceiling. "So awful that even when I'm just lying here you can't tolerate me?"

"Others have been seeking your company, and it is unfair of me to keep you." Master Che spoke lightly, and she lurked near a table. "Your belongings are here. Master Kenobi and Senator Amidala have both been to see you. You ought not keep them waiting much longer."

With that, she departed. The door slid shut behind her and left Anakin again in silence. The visions resurfaced, so he sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face, directing his mind to getting up and moving. He'd only been up and about a couple times, often with the IV still attached and usually with Obi-Wan muttering at him that it wasn't healthy to stay in bed all day. From the same man who not so long ago demanded he slow down and rest.

Anakin slid off the cot and approached his bundle of items: his Jedi garments, his lightsaber, and the device. He took his clothes to the refresher and dressed. His injuries had all healed, and he had some shape to him again, no longer a sickly stick figure. He needed to shave, but he couldn't bring himself to look in the mirror long enough to bother.

He returned to the other room, tucked the device into his tunic, and clipped his lightsaber to his belt. Even though the weight was right, its presence felt strange. Wrong.

Stuck in the Halls of Healing, Anakin had ample time to think about where he was and what he intended to do. Yet he resisted actually doing what he knew he needed to do. Even the thought of it, of his next steps, made his stomach sink and sucked the air out of his lungs.

Nevertheless, Anakin set off out the door. He had a few things to tend to, and then he would pay Padmé a visit.

\-----

Anakin paced the hall outside Padmé's office at least a dozen times and drew awkward stares from the Jedi and clones standing guard outside her door.

Apparently she had vehemently argued to return to her apartment, to the Senate Building, and to her duties despite the Order's requests for her to remain in their protection. Anakin agreed with the Order. Padmé and the babies would be targets so long as Sidious remained at large—along with Owen, Beru, and Bail Organa. Because of the vision and because of Anakin's refusal to join Sidious, so many more people were in danger.

But it was impossible to reason with Padmé. He reminded himself of that. He took and held a breath and knocked on her door.

"Come in." So curt and formal. She must have received many check-ins and distractions, to the point of annoyance.

Anakin slipped inside, one hand on the door and the other on a datapad. She didn't look up at first, but her brow furrowed in frustration, her eyes sharpening on her task. Annoyed put it lightly—she must have been reasonably furious with whoever kept checking in on her. He appreciated the tightness in her face, the frustration, and how stubborn she was against all reason.

"May I ask why—" she started, and she looked up in anger. As soon as she saw him, the words died on her lips and her face melted into pleasant surprise. "Anakin."

Padmé rose slowly, as if a quick movement might startle him away. In truth, it probably would have. He barely held his ground, still only halfway in the door, frozen.

"P-please come in." She straightened her gown and toyed with a lock of hair that had unraveled from her elaborate hair ornament. No matter, she remained beautiful as ever. Like a dream. Everything he ever wanted. When she looked at him, he dropped his eyes to the floor. "Are you well? I checked in on you several times, but they…" She slipped around her desk but stopped at the corner of it. "The twins are well. If you wanted, we could go—"

"I'm sorry," he said, and he finally stepped in and shut the door. He crossed the room only halfway and stopped at a distance. If he got any closer, he might lose heart. There was too much to lose for him to give in. He couldn't find the words he'd rehearsed several times at the Temple, on the way to the Senate Building, and in the hallway.

Instead of saying anything, he set the datapad on the far corner of the desk and retreated. Padmé stared at the datapad. She took it cautiously, and her face paled before she even accessed what was on it. As she read, her face crumpled. Same as it had on Mustafar. Same as it had before he strangled the life out of her and left her for dead.

It would be different this time. It had to be. In all of the destruction and death, he was the common denominator. So he was the part that needed to be removed.

"Separation documents," she said, the words barely making it out her lips in the faintest breath.

"I looked into the legal systems on Naboo. They should be valid here and there." Anakin swallowed hard, and then he went to the door. No looking back. He couldn't. His chest hurt and he couldn't breathe. He hadn't felt like this since his mother died, at least not in their current lifetime.

He'd felt as such as Darth Vader more times than he could recall.

"No," Padmé said, both with a hint of anger and a sob. "No, I don't want this. Anakin, stop!"

He did, with his fingers on the door. He refused to turn around. He could hear the tears in her voice. He only caused her suffering. He had to remember that.

"Anakin, you are not Darth Vader," she said. Emotion poured into every word as she spoke and wept. Her footsteps drew closer, and every muscle in Anakin's body tightened. She stopped. "That isn't who you really are. The man you are now, the man I fell in love with—you are good, Anakin! You are a good man! And if something is hurting you, if something is wrong, we will get through it together."

A sob escaped her, and it took everything in Anakin to keep from turning and taking her in his arms, because that's what he did. He wanted her to be all right. But that was the mistake. That was the selfishness in him talking. He wanted her and needed her, and he killed her in his foolish attempts to keep her. Attachment became possession became death.

No, to truly save her, he had to let her go.

"I'm sorry." He had no other argument. She'd seen the future, too. She didn't need anything else. He opened the door.

"No—Anakin, stop!" she yelled at him, but he slid into the hall.

The datapad whistled through the air into the wall beside the door, where it hit hard and then clattered to the floor. The Jedi and clone troopers jumped at the sound, at her raised voice. Anakin kept walking.

"I don't want this! Anakin, I want you! I want you and our children—Anakin!" Her footsteps followed him into the hall, but Anakin kept moving. His heart broke with every step. "Don't do this! Anakin!"

Padmé cried. And Anakin walked away.


	28. Echoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, most wonderful ones! Almost to the end, hang in there!!!!! As always, I appreciate all forms of your support, and I love being on this ride with you~~

"Well you have done, young Skywalker," Master Yoda said from his seat in the High Council chamber. "Many lives you have saved, and yet much turmoil in you I sense."

Brilliant warm sunlight washed over the seats from the expansive windows, but the light didn't seem to reach Anakin. It touched everyone except him. As always, he felt the outcast. He was missing something everyone else had, and he'd never reach it.

Upon entering the chamber, Anakin had noted with surprise that Obi-Wan stood at the back of the room and off to the side rather than sit in his chair. His former Master wore his usual Jedi attire and wrapped himself in his cloak, his face serene. Very unlike the last time they stood in the chamber together and the Council sent them into exile.

"I simply did my duty," Anakin said. His head felt heavy and sagged, his chin to his chest. "And one noble act will never outweigh a lifetime of atrocities."

"A lifetime not lived, if I recall correctly." Master Windu raised the hand that Anakin would sever and wriggled his fingers, inspecting the limb with significance.

"I do believe the clones were quite appreciative of your efforts," Master Plo said. "Your one noble act has made a significant difference in all of their lifetimes."

Anakin said nothing to that. He undid an atrocity that he would have been complicit with in the future. He recalled the graveyard of clone helmets on the moon and Appo and his men marching on the Temple. One good did not undo the bad. It never would.

Redemption was not an option. He could never atone for what he had done and would do.

"I am leaving." Anakin said the words without hesitation. No opening conversation, no grand explanations, just that. "Immediately."

Master Windu raised both eyebrows and exchanged looks with Master Yoda. Master Yoda's ears twitched. Master Windu passed Obi-Wan a glance, and Obi-Wan in turn gave the slightest shake of his head. Anakin frowned at the exchange.

"We do not oppose your decision. You are free to do as you please," said Master Windu, but he leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. "But what are your intentions? Sidious is still at large and will likely pursue you."

"I understand," Anakin said, and he sighed aloud. "But I don't know. I have no destination in mind. I will… let the Force guide me."

Again several members of the Council exchanged furtive glances. Anakin would start to sound like a madman if he fully explained what he had in mind. That he would board whatever ship he could, travel to wherever they let him, and trust that the Force got him where he needed to go. Qui-Gon apparently had lived such a life, with reckless trust in the Living Force.

But Anakin didn't trust the Force. Not really.

"I am sorry for the damage I have caused," Anakin said to them, and he closed his eyes to avoid their expressions and their exchanges. "I am sorry for my failures, my deficiencies... I am sorry for it all."

"Ever changing, the future is," Master Yoda said, though he spoke with gentleness, not the usual tinge of frustration he bore when speaking to Anakin. "Different, your path will be, if you so choose it."

"I will make a different choice." Anakin lifted his head but kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He was becoming intimately familiar with the leaf patterns across the tile. "But Sidious is still a threat. So please… protect Padmé and the twins. He will hunt them if he can, to get to me… or to destroy the twins, so that if I die…"

"We already gave you our assurance that Senator Amidala and the twins will be guarded until Sidious is defeated," Master Windu said. "We will not renege on that promise. Although with her stubbornness, it may prove to be one of the more difficult of our missions."

Anakin tried to smile but couldn't muster it. She certainly would give them a challenge. It was part of why he loved her: that deliberateness, the dedication to good, to change, the unwillingness to settle. She was fierce, and fiery, and passionate. She would change the galaxy for the better, just as their children would after her. Anakin had no doubt.

"Thank you," he said, faintly. He bowed at the waist. "I will take my leave."

"May the Force be with you," Master Windu said with sincerity. Many of the other Masters in the room echoed his well wishes.

Anakin turned and went to the door, and he felt Obi-Wan's gaze on him the entire length of the room. He departed from the chamber in all its shining sunlight without looking back.

\-----

"Anakin!"

Obi-Wan caught up to Anakin on Processional Way. His former Padawan stopped at the edge of the stairs leading down into oblivion. Warm sunlight spilled over Anakin, and he lifted his head momentarily to the sky. It was one of the few times Obi-Wan had seen him look up rather than down. His young friend turned to face him, and the eyes went again to the ground. Always.

"Come to stop me?" Anakin asked, no trace of fight in his voice. If Obi-Wan wanted to stop him, he probably could.

Things hadn't happened quite the way Obi-Wan hoped, but he couldn't argue with the turn of events. Anakin had to make choices for himself if he was to come to a healthy decision. The Jedi and the Sith had pushed and pulled him for too long.

"No." Obi-Wan stopped at a slight distance and folded his arms into the sleeves of his cloak. "But if you will have me, I want to join you."

Anakin looked up, one of the rare moments when he might have met Obi-Wan's eyes. He blinked in surprise as if realizing what he was doing and immediately dropped his gaze again. His hands curled into fists and his face twisted into a frown.

"No," Anakin said, and Obi-Wan's heart stuttered. "Your place is here, Master. You are good at what you do. You are good." Anakin nodded and then turned to face the sprawling city of shining silver. "Where I go, you can't follow."

Obi-Wan frowned at the statement. A sliver of concern settled in his chest.

"And where will you go?"

"Away." Anakin stared into the distance, his eyes glazed. "Somewhere far from here. Somewhere that doesn't matter. Somewhere… to disappear."

Obi-Wan looked Anakin over. His former Padawan stood taller than he had for the past few weeks, both from an increase in health, he imagined, and renewed hope. But the same brokenness as before lurked deep in Anakin's eyes and therefore his heart. An emptiness that nothing and no one could fill, not Padmé, not Obi-Wan, not even the twins. A sense of self that Anakin had never found as a slave, as a Jedi, or as a Sith.

It hurt, but Obi-Wan had to let him go.

"Will you be all right?" Obi-Wan asked, and he hoped Anakin could sense the concern in his voice. He couldn't verbalize what he felt—he'd never been good at it—but he hoped Anakin would understand.

Anakin stared straight ahead. At last, he faced Obi-Wan again, though his eyes went back to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan." For an instant, Obi-Wan saw in him the small boy at Qui-Gon's funeral pyre, a child lost and alone with no idea where he might go or where he belonged. "I am sorry for what Qui-Gon asked of you. I am sorry I disobeyed, that I was difficult for you. You deserved better than me, and I… I have been unappreciative of your training. I disappointed you. I have been arrogant. I…"

Obi-Wan's heart skipped several beats. The words Anakin spoke echoed the words spoken in another lifetime. He wasn't even sure Anakin realized it. They were the last words they spoke as allies. As brothers. They were words of farewell, and Obi-Wan's heart broke at them. In his heart, it suddenly seemed, he would never see Anakin again.

"I have no excuse," Anakin said at last after struggling on his words. No blame towards the Council. Not even any blame towards Sidious. Only acceptance of the role he himself had played.

In a blink, Anakin grew up.

"I am proud of you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and again he hoped his former Padawan would hear more than just his words. "I am proud of who you were, and I am proud of who you have become today." He took a step closer but stopped, fearing Anakin would not appreciate the intrusion. "You are not Darth Vader. You will not become Darth Vader. You are good, and you are strong, and you are wise. You do not need to leave."

Anakin heaved a sigh and shut his eyes. His fingers still hadn't unclenched. His chin lowered to his chest, a physical manifestation of the mountain of burdens he insisted on bearing alone. What Obi-Wan wouldn't give to take them, to share the weight.

"Yes, I do." Emotion broke the steadiness of Anakin's words.

"Anakin—"

"It doesn't matter what I do now," Anakin said, and he frowned at the space between them. "Even if I wanted to stay, I have no place here. I have no place anywhere. Everyone who saw the vision knows what I have the potential to become. It doesn't matter who it is. Everyone who saw the vision, or who knows of it, will always look at me and see the mask."

"Then they are wrong. You are not defined by a life you have not lived."

"You know as well as I it is not the action that matters but the potential." Anakin's brow wrinkled, a solemn emptiness flooding his eyes.

Obi-Wan had no reply. He had once deemed Anakin dangerous. The Council had done so as well, long before Anakin had chosen good or evil, light or dark. His potential for danger deemed him unworthy. Thus he had been defined all his life.

"It isn't… just that," Anakin said in haste, as if he knew where Obi-Wan's mind wandered, as if to keep the blame all to himself. "It's…" His frown deepened, and he sighed and further sank under his burdens. "When anyone looks at me, they see a monster. But when I look at them… I see it, too."

His voice cracked, and gold light reflected off wetness in his eyes that he hastily blinked away.

"I see it in the depths of their eyes, but I see it in my reflection, too. I can't escape it." He tried to look up but couldn't. "I can't stand to see myself, even if it's just reflected in someone else's eyes. And I don't know… I don't know what else to do." He straightened, the muscles in his jaw tight, his body rigid and unyielding. He swallowed hard. "So I have to go."

Anakin inhaled a breath. He took his lightsaber from his belt and turned it on his palm, and then he closed the space between them and placed it in Obi-Wan's hand. It felt impossibly heavy.

"Thank you for everything, Master," Anakin said, timidly, and he swallowed again. "Obi-Wan, may the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan said, and the words nearly caught in his throat. Echoes of another life, one in which he lost Anakin to darkness and despair. A cruel life that should never have happened. And he felt in his heart he would lose Anakin again, and he couldn't bear it.

Anakin turned into the glittering sunlight and strode towards the stairs that would take him forever away. Obi-Wan stood in the shadows cast by the Temple and watched him go.

Obi-Wan's emotions threatened to bubble to the surface and overwhelm him. His own voice broke, faint, so quiet that he knew Anakin would not hear. He spoke with finality.

"Goodbye, old friend."


	29. He Who Dons the Mask

Anakin ghosted through the galaxy. Whenever he found himself able to move on, he did. Whenever an opportunity presented itself, he traveled. From one planet to another, from one city to another. He offered to work on ships for passage, and word got around of his skills so that he rarely had trouble getting odd jobs on vessels or in the spaceports where they landed. He developed a name, but in truth he gave no name at all. He was only the mysterious traveler who could build a functional droid out of scrap metal.

That boy with the scar, as some of the older crewmen called him.

Within a few weeks, he found himself on Kamino with a crew intending to rebuild. Most of the people who had lived and worked in the destroyed facilities had been found scattered throughout nearby planets, captured and dispersed by Grievous. Apparently, Sidious hadn't wanted them to interfere in his plans to kill Obi-Wan and see Anakin fall. A handful of people returned to assist with the repairs, but most had temporarily relocated.

Anakin performed routine maintenance on their vessel before disembarking to help with the repairs of the battered city. It only felt right, given his experiences with the clones. This was their home, their place of belonging. It deserved better. The clones deserved better.

The GAR and the Jedi Order had already done significant work by clearing out the bodies. That left the crewmen the work of cleaning up debris, repairing facilities, and getting the machines operational. Anakin focused on the machines.

The power source had been fried in much the same way Anakin destroyed the electronics in Mos Espa with his untested device. Grievous must have found a way to amplify a disrupter signal without being overtly destructive to everything else in its surroundings. A dangerous technology in a war so heavily dependent on machines.

Anakin managed to get the power source running and helped to get the computers operational. He moved from one building to the next, doing likewise, until he reached the massive dome facility from which a vessel protruded. No one had bothered to come this far, knowing the facility would likely have to be demolished. The damage was too extensive. They would salvage what they could and perhaps send the rest to the bottom of the raging ocean.

A light rain pattered the street as Anakin crossed between the buildings on top of an enclosed glass and metal tunnel. He stopped halfway across and took in the view. The ship had split in half, the front sticking straight up out of the dome, the back half balanced precariously on the crunched and lopsided tower. It was a wonder the wind and rain hadn't already brought the entire structure down.

It was the last place they had seen Sidious and the last place Sidious had demanded Anakin submit. The last place he told Anakin his fall was inevitable.

Wind continued to howl, but the enormous puffs of gray clouds began to separate. Here and there rain splattered to the ground, but in other places, streaks of sunlight wormed through. A patchwork of gold light glinted off the destroyed vessel and gave it an almost inviting presence. A broken vessel that, in the right light, became a treasure of immeasurable worth.

Anakin climbed the broken parts of the dome and peered into the vertical half of the ship. Water dripped down, the splashes echoing, and beams of sunlight illuminated the torn and twisted metal frameworks that went on forever inside. There was no telling if the Army had entered such dangerous territory, but many clones had fallen in the ship, and they deserved a proper burial. He slid inside and navigated in perpetual darkness deep into the vessel in search of victims. He found none, the clones either claimed by the Army or by the ocean that swelled at the bottom of the ship.

Ascending, Anakin crawled through tangled metal until he reached a platform where the ship and the dome ceiling merged as one. Bars of durasteel crisscrossed in every direction, casting a prison of shadows on the shimmering steel floor around him. Glass had fallen and blinked in the waxing and waning light.

A single beam of unfettered sunlight broke through the endless debris. It kissed a polished black surface that not only drew but fervently held Anakin's attention. He approached and looked down.

Darth Vader stared up at him.

He saw his reflection in the mask. He saw himself in the eyes of the monster. Somehow the mask had survived, and the galaxy, the Force in all its ugly comedy, brought him back to it. Sidious had been right all along. It was inevitable. All roads led him here. Even his best intentions brought him to the mask.

The mask itself was mostly intact, though it had a crack straight down the right side, from forehead to jaw. When the sunlight caught on the crack, it shone gold. Anakin took it in his fingers, gingerly, half expecting it to turn to dust and flutter away. It remained, and the crack was only surface-deep, a scar through otherwise pristine black.

No matter how far he ran or how he tried to disappear, his fate would always catch up with him. It was at the core of his being, and he could not deny what he was, whether he wanted it or not. It relentlessly pursued him, it haunted him, waiting to devour him. Waiting for him to make that one decisive choice between light and dark, to take the step across the line from which there was no turning back.

Anakin had always had a choice. He'd chosen wrong, time and time again. Out of fear. Out of anger. Out of loneliness. Out of despair.

But in that moment, Anakin felt nothing, only a peculiar sense of inevitability.

He was not a Jedi, was not a Sith, did not belong to the light but did not belong to the dark. Torn between two worlds and neither truly had space for him. He was the one trapped in the in-between places, torn between the brilliant blue of atmosphere and the endless black of space.

He could waver no longer. He knew in his heart Darth Vader could not and would not exist, but neither could Anakin Skywalker, truly. Neither belonged. Neither had a place.

He looked to the mask, to the streak of gold that marred its features. Once perfect, now perfectly flawed. He could not think of a better representation of himself. Something dark and evil with a hint of light that tried to peek through. It wasn't a positive representation, but it was an honest one.

Because he was both. He was Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader. They were one and the same. He would wear the face of both, would own them with all of their mistakes, failures, and perfectly imperfect histories and futures. Both would disappear. He would burn them in fire and bury them. And maybe one day, out of the ashes, something new, something different would rise.

And so, in that streak of sunlight in the ruins of Kamino, Anakin Skywalker put upon his face the mask of Darth Vader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, by the way, there's a second book. And don't worry, it's already written. If you enjoyed this story, please keep your eyes out for the sequel novel, DUEL OF FATES, coming soon!
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading, commenting, or supporting this story in whatever way/shape/form that you did. Writing is a blast for me, but hearing from you guys, hearing your thoughts, what you think is coming next, how you're connecting with the story--all of those things have been a BLAST for me. It's been a huge pleasure to be able to share this story with you~ Hopefully I'll see you around for the grand finale in book two~ Take care until then!


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